Dead Space
by lucylala
Summary: Sue Sylvester is CEO of an intergalactic company. When one of her ships sends out a distress signal she hires weapons specialist Quinn Fabray to assist with the rescue. Punk!Quinn Badass!Rachel. Loosely based on the Dead Space video game series.
1. Prologue

Black boots clicked against polished concrete as Holly Holliday stormed down a narrow corridor in the windowless headquarters of Sylvester Enterprises. Holly Holliday was well-liked in her workplace, a constant source of laughter and companionship, it was rare to see her without a smile or a useful piece of advice. She was especially close with the founder of the company, one Sue Sylvester. When Holly first started working for the company, it was assumed that she and the CEO were related, so sudden and firm was their bond. Some of the kinder employees would remark about the "Sylvester sisters," while others (never in front of Sue of course, who claimed to be only thirty-two) would say that Holly was Sue's daughter, come to work for her mother in the hope of continuing the company Sue had built from the ground up, once the older blonde was gone.

These whispered speculations were of course just that; speculations. Holly and Sue were not related, not even second cousins twice removed, or estranged in-laws. Holly Holliday was merely an extremely dedicated and skilled woman, two qualities Sue valued highly both in a potential friend _and_ right-hand-woman to the CEO and founder of one of Earth's greatest galactic resource extractors.

Sylvester enterprises had been founded when Sue saw the potential for human greed to exceed the Earth's atmosphere, contracting the construction of a fleet of Starships, sending them out to various solar systems to gather minerals and precious metals, returning them to Earth for sale.

The first of its kind, the company had seen great success; and with Sue at the helm, supported by her loyal comrade Holly Holliday, there could only be good things to come.

However, on this particular day (August fifteenth, of the year 2103, to be exact), Holly could be seen walking determinedly towards Sue's office in the west wing, a thunderous scowl firmly in place, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, leaving shocked glances and whispered rumours amongst co-workers in her wake.

In an attempt to calm her rising frustration, Holly focused on the repetitive echo of her heeled leather boots up and down the empty space of the corridor; _heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe, heel_, reminding the woman at the source of the sound of a ticking clock, marking the seconds that slipped by as Holly drew closer to her destination. _Heel, toe, heel, toe, heel - _silence.

Holly came to a sudden halt at the end of the now silent hallway, the courage she had felt on her way down turning quickly to apprehension as she was faced with solid metal. The tall blonde stared at the gaudy silver door in front of her, eyes peering into the lens of a small camera she knew Sue had demanded be built into the door of her office, ever cautious (or paranoid), that someone would break through the wall of security outside.

Holly took a deep breath, working up the courage to knock, but was interrupted by the crackling intercom and the metallic click of the lock before she had the chance.

"Don't be shy, Blondie, door's unlocked."

Unfazed by Sue's surveillance, Holly entered the office, pushing her shoulders back and raising her chin as she strutted toward the large mahogany desk at the center of the room.

"Mornin' sweet cheeks, you catch _Hoarders _last night? Honestly, I'm surprised they haven't come up with higher quality programming since the long-awaited invention of the holographic television. The mindless drivel that humans disguise as entertainment will forever baffle me." Not waiting for Holly's reply, Sue Sylvester, clad in one of her trademark track suits, stood from her wing-backed chair, circling the desk to lean against it, directly in front of Holly, who was yet to sit down.

"I'm not here to talk reality TV with you, Sue, no matter how cool last night's episode was," Holly began, before getting distracted by the awe-inspiring television that was _Hoarders._ "But really what is _with _some people. How can one person have so much crap, right? Can I get a holl-a?" Holly sing-songed holding her hand up for a high-five, before quickly dropping it and shaking her head, attempting to get back on track, "I wanted to talk to you about Starship Carmel."

Holly quirked an eyebrow at Sue, awaiting an explanation. The Carmel was one of Sue's most valued ships; it had the greatest resources, most talented crew, and had made Sylvester Enterprises more money than any of the other vessels combined. Captained by Jesse St. James, the Carmel had been to the farthest known corners of the galaxy, bringing back treasures that astounded Sue and Holly alike. To send the crew to Zone 12, an uncharted, starless corner of the galaxy, was dangerous, reckless, and downright stupid; Holly could not fathom why Sue would send her best people into such a risky situation.

Sue smirked at her subordinate, folding her arms in front of her chest before beginning, "Holly, look at me." Sue paused, giving Holly a chance to rake her eyes up and down Sue's body, clueless as to what she was meant to be seeing. "Do I look like the type of person that made her fortune by playing it safe? I'll answer that for you, blondie..." The smirk disappeared and Sue leaned in so that her nose almost touched Holly's, "No! Do I look like some flabby, misshapen human, who would let her arch-nemesis Roz Washington usurp her position as CEO after saying she had 'old, wrinkly boobs?' I'll spell it out for you N-O!" Holly was beginning to understand Sue's motivation; she had long been in competition with the CEO of Aquatic Synchronicity, an underwater mining firm based on Neptune. Roz was under the impression that she could run Sue's company better than Sue herself, and was constantly trying to best the head of Sylvester Enterprises. "I have been informed (and when I say informed I mean I sent my assistant Becky Jackson to hide in a filing cabinet - which I myself planted - in the boardroom of one Aquatic Synchronicity) that there are minerals within Zone 12 that could provide us with enough energy to power our solar system for centuries."

Her monologue now complete, Sue leant back against the desk, turning to buff her already gleaming _Sue Sylvester, CEO _plaque with the edge of her sleeve. While Holly now understood that Sue needed to prove herself superior to Ros Washington, she was still at a loss as to what this had to do with the Carmel being sent to Zone 12. "I understand that, Sue, but why would you send the Carmel to an uncharted area of the galaxy? That ship may have cool toys and way advanced technology, but it sent out a distress signal, Sue, when are you going to do something about it!"

Sue sighed before returning to the other side of her desk and sitting down, pulling up a holographic screen and swiping her fingers across it a few times. "That Jesse St. Sucks kid may have a lot of hair, but hidden somewhere within that tangled mess of gel and hair-dye is a damn good brain. I acknowledge that his decision to send out a distress signal may warrant bringing in some outside help." A hologram appeared in front of Sue with one final flick of her fingertip and she leant back in her chair, satisfied. Revolving in front of them was the figure of a woman with lurid pink hair, sporting a nose ring, combat boots and a severe expression, an AK-47 hanging limply by her side. Sue continued, "which is why I've hired Quinn Fabray, weapons specialist, to join the crew aboard the Starship McKinley, which I dispatched to Zone 12 two hours ago.


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: so I should probably say that I don't own Glee, or Dead Space (even though this story isn't actually as similar as I first though it would be). Also, thanks to everyone who's reading and I'll try update as often as I can. **

**PS. Sorry if I get any facts or anything wrong, while I do like science-fiction, I don't actually know much about it. Or guns. I'm rambling, so enjoy.**

* * *

Quinn Fabray surveys the comings and goings of the space station around her; her weathered duffel bag forgotten at her feet, her silver weapons carrier clutched securely in her strong fingers. It had taken her four months to get here from New York City, where one of only four galactic travel ports had been built in an attempt to accommodate the sudden boom in stellar trade. While space travel had come a long way in the last century or so, it still took a number of months to get to the more distant corners of the galaxy. Quinn stands in the middle of a spacious atrium, exhausted, the glass ceiling soaring above her pink head, revealing stars that may or may not still be burning, their bright light a ghostly memory of what once was.

Quinn would forever be in awe of the wonders of space, no matter that humans had been flitting around the galaxy for decades, and their own solar system for even longer. From the time she was a little girl, whenever she looked up, she felt her problems melt away as she was enveloped by the warm blanket of stars above her, leaving a once tearful child, and now outwardly indifferent adult, feeling insignificant, comforted by the fact that she didn't matter to these dead stars.

Quinn had come from a somewhat archaic family. Even three years into the twenty-second century, the Fabrays upheld the traditional values more commonly seen decades prior. They had raised their daughters to be God-fearing, demure women, whose only goal in life _should _have been to marry well and start a family. Evidently, the youngest Fabray did not fit the mold. Being raised by an alcoholic father and a subservient, eager-to-please mother did not make for a happy childhood. Quinn longed for her mother to break free of her father's oppression, or, failing that, for knight in shining armour to ride in on a white horse and sweep them all off to his castle in the sky.

As she got older, it became apparent to Quinn that neither one of her fantasies would ever come to fruition, and it was best to stop hoping altogether. Instead, Quinn begrudgingly accepted her fate, seeking the approval of the man she had simultaneously feared and idolised for most of her childhood. Lucy Fabray became Quinn Fabray, the perfect cheerleader, dating the star quarterback, and her father could not have been more proud.

"You'll make a lovely wife for him, Quinnie," Russell had slurred the night after Quinn's sixteenth birthday, letting his beefy arm drop around his daughter's shoulder. "You'll have your white picket fence, and you'll make your mother and I very proud." It took everything Quinn had not to throw his arm off and scream into his face, even now, nearly ten years later, standing in a crowded space station, Quinn has to suppress a shudder. She can still feel her father's hot, alcohol-soaked breath on her cheek, can almost feel her body sagging under his weight as he leans against her, whispering praise into her ear as though presenting some long-awaited gift. At the time, that's exactly what it was. After three years of unacknowledged effort, Quinn was finally vindicated by a couple of slurred sentences from her intoxicated father. When she felt sick dissatisfaction drip down her spine, rather than the warm rush of accomplishment that should have been filling her chest, sixteen-year-old Quinn knew she had to be her own knight in shining armour. She needed to get out. She couldn't look out at the world from behind a white picket fence, nor gaze at the stars from a small patch of grass in a suburban street, surrounded by the plastic smiles of her cookie-cutter neighbours; Quinn wanted _more. _

That very night, once her father had passed out in his study and her mother had meticulously cleaned the kitchen and gone to bed, Quinn packed a small duffel bag and left the town of Lima, Ohio, driving into the night, guided by stars she called her own.

* * *

Nearly ten years later, the same duffel bag sits by her feet, containing clothing far different from the hastily packed garments of her departure from Lima, an attempt to distance herself from the blonde cheerleader whose life she wished desperately to avoid living. Quinn never put down roots; too afraid of their connotations, she became afraid of commitment, keeping to herself, socialising with co-workers when required before moving on to a new job after a few short months.

She had fallen conveniently into the weaponry profession while at a shooting range in New York one Saturday afternoon. Finding herself naturally gifted with firearms, Quinn had been offered a part-time position with the gun club, stamping passes and coaching newcomers. Quinn partly believed she had been offered the job to act as a sort of mascot for the club, enticing men to the shooting range with her combination of classic beauty and lethal skill. On more than one occasion, Quinn had been likened to the femme fatales of classic Bond films (a franchise that was still going strong, much to Quinn's chagrin).

In order to quash some of the similarities, Quinn had cut her hair and dyed her it a vibrant pink, to the initial shock of her employer, only to be met with eventual approval, and, if possible, even more suitors. While flattered, Quinn remained unimpressed at the amount of male attention she was receiving, not having been overly interested in dating since high school. When Quinn felt the familiar yearning in the pit of her stomach, she would go to a bar, down two glasses of scotch and wait for someone to approach her. She never waited long. Quinn would leave with her suitor, usually to a hotel or humble apartment, do what needed to be done and leave once they fell asleep, never spending the night. These were her conditions; no one she slept with knew anything about her, not where she lived or where she worked, and none of them ever would. Quinn would not allow herself to get attached, only to end up living out her father's Lima dream in New York, Chicago, Canada, or anywhere else. As long as there was a house and a husband, for Quinn, there was Lima, and she would avoid it at all costs.

Despite being unwelcome, attention from the gun-loving customers at the club did give Quinn an extensive knowledge of both vintage and new age weapons, which she put to use in her spare time, testing various guns and pistols, honing her skills, if only to be good at something she knew her father would never approve of. Her constant practice and encyclopaedic knowledge of modern weaponry did come in handy for more than just defying her father, though, on the day Quinn met Shannon Beiste, recruiter for a small weapons development corporation based in Texas. Though thankful for her start in the weapons industry, Quinn was eager to leave the shooting range behind, accompanying Beiste back to Texas where she joined a developmental team, helping to create state of the art firearm technology, working her way up through the company as the years progressed. Quinn was now a freelance agent for Texas Weaponry - a rival company Beiste had bought out three years before - consulting on development, as well as implementing new technology into large companies like Sylvester Enterprises.

Quinn's gaze once again falls upon the dark expanse of sky above her, her body warming with the sense of satisfaction she feels at her success; managing to escape the stifling confines of her childhood home to become a successful and independent woman, working for some of the galaxy's top companies. As she is bathed in the shadow of a large ship passing overhead, Quinn recalls an old saying she had received on her eleventh birthday card, and never forgotten: _shoot for the moon, even if you miss you will land among the stars. _Smirking to herself, Quinn imagines the face of the person who first said it, intending it figuratively, while she sits, quite literally among the stars, and far beyond the moon.

* * *

The Starship McKinley is just passing over the space station where it was due to land half an hour ago, it's Captain, Finn Hudson, wincing to himself as he is listens to the angry tirade gushing from the large mouth of the woman on his left.

"Who does this Fabray person think she is? What kind of a name is _Quinn _for a weapons specialist, anyway!" Rachel Berry exclaims, her fingers splayed out on the counter in front of a revolving Hologram of Quinn Fabray, sent on by Holly earlier that morning. The McKinley would have been on time to collect said weapons specialist, had its navigator, Brittany Pierce, not veered them off course to visit a nebula that she claimed was shaped like a unicorn; "Please Finn, pretty please? I pinky promise we'll still be on time!" Finn would have denied the request had he not been on the receiving end of a venomous glare from Santana Lopez, the ship's resident gunman (or woman), who ensured the fruition of her girlfriend's every whim with her fear-invoking wrong side of the tracks persona. Brittany had literally jumped for joy at Finn's mute nod of assent, leaping up to give him a tight hug before skipping over to Santana, linking their pinkies together. Now, after nearly three hours a heated debate as to what the nebula actually _did _look like (because it sure wasn't a unicorn), the McKinley was pulling in to its destination, ready to refuel and pick up its latest addition.

"Rachel, will you please _calm down," _Kurt Hummel interjects, just as the small brunette takes a deep breath to continue her rant about the new weapons expert. "We're late as it is, and we don't need you ruining our already tarnished first impression." Rachel mumbles something under her breath about "pink," and "my thing," before huffing air through her nose and storming from the room.

"Just because you have pink streaks in your hair doesn't mean you have a monopoly on the color!" Kurt calls after her, his words lost as the metal door slides closed behind her with a quiet _whoosh. _With a sigh, Kurt ambles up to the control panel to stand next to Finn, folding his arms across his chest. Finn glances over at his step-brother, shrugging his shoulders and hitching his mouth up into a lopsided grin. They all knew what Rachel was like, her storm-outs had at first been amusing, then tiresome, slowly becoming a part of life on the McKinley as it flew through the stars doing Sue Sylvester's bidding.

"Don't sweat it, Kurt," Finn reassures. "That's just Rachel. I mean, yeah, she's totally hot and stuff, in like, a badass way, but she's kinda dramatic. Remember that time she beat up Puck, just because he said she was too much of a girl to play _Halo 7.3_?" Finn chuckled at the memory of the tiny woman jumping on his mohawked friend, Puck laughing at first, begging for mercy a few minutes later as she twisted his arm behind his back with a satisfied smirk.

Kurt sighs again, resting his hip against the illuminated control panel in front of him, "I just hope Quinn can deal with her, because if she can't hold her own, this mission is going to be hell.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

When all the required air-locks and walkways had been engaged, Finn, accompanied by an overexcited Noah Puckerman, disembarked from the McKinley and entered the space station. It wasn't difficult to spot Quinn, her choppy pink hair and dark clothing set her apart from the pale greys and whites adopted by most of the travellers bustling about. Finn rubbed the back of his neck with a large palm; a nervous tick he'd had for as long as anyone could remember. Beside Finn, Puck let out a low whistle accompanied by a soft "dayumn," as he looked Quinn up and down, not even attempting to conceal his obvious lust.

"Think she might need a taste of the Puckasaurus, eh, Hudson?" He teased, elbowing Finn in the ribs and tipping his chin up, sauntering over to Quinn, who was leaning against a wall, inspecting her short fingernails. When he reached her, he winked before introducing himself as "Puck, rhymes with you-know-what, master of machinery and women on the SS McKinley." Quinn had not looked up from her nails, and when Puck placed a lingering kiss to her free hand with a smirk, she merely raised a sculpted eyebrow derisively before returning to the inspection of the fingers on her opposite hand. Never one to be deterred, Puck continued his amusing, if unwelcome attempt to woo Quinn, "You'll fall for me eventually, babe, no one can resist the charms of the Puckasaurus. Admit it, you and I would make a smokin' couple."

No longer willing to tolerate to his advances, Quinn was glaring at Puck in a way that Finn could only describe as 'scary,' and seemed on the verge of opening her mouth to speak, so he chose this moment to jog over to the pair in the hopes of placating the weapons specialist before she murdered his best friend. Puck, still undeterred, was grinning at her and wiggling his eyebrows, only to be blocked from Quinn's view by the huge form of Finn.

The taller man cleared his throat, his left palm once again rubbing the back of his neck. Reluctantly sticking his free hand into the gap between them, Finn introduced himself, albeit awkwardly, "Quinn? Uh, hi, I'm Finn Hudson, the, um, captain? I'm the captain." Mentally berating himself for his stuttering, Finn smiled as Quinn took his hand gingerly, giving it a surprisingly firm shake before returning hers to her side. "Just ignore Puck, he's just, well he's Puck. But he's a nice guy, once you get to know him," Finn finished, glancing at Puck, who winked at Quinn once again, as if trying to disprove his friend's statement. Quinn rolled her eyes at Puck, picking up her duffel bag, only to have it removed from her hands by Finn, who insisted on carrying it for her.

"I could do that myself, but thanks. And please, for his sake, tell your friend that if he wants to seduce a woman, he should refrain from referring to himself as 'Puckasaurus,'" she quipped with a small smirk, strutting off in the direction of the ship, leaving the two men to gawk after her, Finn's thoughts lost in a haze of _pretty, names, rhyme, Quinn, sexy, ass, uh, MAILMAN _-

"Are you two coming or can we complete this mission without the captain or mechanic?" she threw back sarcastically, snapping Finn out of his reverie, motivating him to jog after her, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Oh, right, um, yeah, of course. It's a pleasure having you aboard, Quinn, and I'm sure your skills will be a great, um, asset? Yeah asset! To our mission, and stuff." Content with his small speech, Finn nodded to himself, walking beside Quinn to the docking station, leaving Puck to waltz along behind them, his eyes never leaving her ass.

* * *

Rachel had been in her room since her dramatic exit from the control room, singing to herself in the hopes that it would cheer her up. She knew she was being petty, but she prided herself on being an individual, it made her feel special, and it had taken her a really long time to master the art of being a badass. Even though she really didn't live up to the title, Rachel thought she was doing everything right, and would "go to her grave swearing she was the most badass badass that ever committed badassery," as Kurt once put it. The fact that some 'weapons specialist' (Rachel always used finger quotes in her mind when thinking this, because really, could this woman have a more obnoxious job title?) might come in and just sweep the rug out from under her was something Rachel Berry did not take lightly, and she intended to do something about it.

The McKinley crew members may have mocked Rachel at every turn, but she had once been poised to shine just as bright as some the stars that passed by her tiny window, and even brighter than others. However, her light had been snuffed out by circumstance, forcing Rachel out into the stars to work on the McKinley, instead of becoming one herself.

* * *

Once aboard, Quinn was shown to her room and left to get settled, but not without one last seedy wink from Puck, which she responded to with another eye roll. The way this was going, Quinn felt she would most likely end up dizzy from the constant rolling of her hazel eyes. "You'll come around, babe, I'm impossible to resist." With that, he blew her a kiss and left, leaving Quinn to despair at the thought of what the rest of the crew would be like; if these two were anything to go by, the McKinley was full of idiots.

Once she had put her few belongings away in her in-built closet, there was nothing left for Quinn to do in the tiny room. Gazing out the window for a few minutes, she sighed, reluctantly making the decision to seek out the rest of the crew and introduce herself. _Get it over and done with, Fabray, then you can just do your work and move on when it's over. _Leaving her room, Quinn was faced with the small corridor she had been shown down earlier, lined with metal doors she assumed led to the rooms of her co-workers. Each door had a small whiteboard mounted at eye-level, stating the room number and the name of its occupant, some adorned with scrawled notes or nicknames. Hearing music, Quinn paused, pinpointing the sound as coming from the door two to the left of her own. Recognising the song, she pressed her ear to the door, listening as an extraordinary voice belted out the words of a song she knew, but couldn't quite put her finger on. Dying to know the song name, but not wishing to disturb the singer, Quinn pulled back from the door, reading the name written on the whiteboard. _Rachel Berry, co-captain and karaoke night champion 3 weeks running. COME IN WITHOUT KNOCKING AND I'LL TEAR YOU A NEW ONE. THAT MEANS YOU NOAH! _

Chuckling to herself, Quinn moved her gaze to a small note below Rachel's declaration, written in an untidy scrawl; _Rach, how many times do I have to tell you, there's only one captain. It's me. I'm not rubbing it off 'cause I'm kinda scared of you, but PLEASE stop saying you're co-captain. From Finn. _Underneath that was another note, written in large, curly handwriting; _Girl, I expect you to have changed that by the next time I walk down this hallway. You know I whooped your ass in karaoke last Sunday - M. _Her chuckle now a full-blown laugh, Quinn did not notice that the voice inside the room had stopped singing until the door in front of her was flung open, presenting her with its owner.

The first feature Quinn noticed about the woman she took to be Rachel Berry was her hair (most likely because her eyes were level with the top of Rachel's head); it was a dark brown, curling loosely as it cascaded over her thin shoulders, but the thing that really struck Quinn were the neon pink streaks running through it, almost identical to the colour of her own hair. Finally shifting her gaze to Rachel's face, Quinn was taken aback when she was met with a fierce scowl, but did not fail to notice full lips and sculpted cheekbones, as well as the intensity and depth of Rachel's brown eyes (accentuated with thick eyeliner and mascara), despite the fact that they were currently shooting daggers at her.

Before Quinn had the chance to say anything, Rachel took a step toward her, seemingly on the verge of prodding Quinn's chest with her outstretched finger as she said, "Quinn Fabray I presume?" Without waiting for an answer, Rachel advanced another step, forcing Quinn's back against the opposite wall of the narrow hallway. "I see that you, like myself, seem to have adopted a somewhat badass image, and I would like to make it clear that pink hair is my signature look, commonly accompanied by leather and band T-shirts, but I have yet to determine whether your wardrobe stretches to accommodate these other similarities. I would just like to make it clear that I am the resident badass on this ship, and if you get in my way, or try to usurp my title at any time, there will be consequences. Do we have an understanding, Fabray?" Rachel was now so close to Quinn that the taller woman could feel her shallow breath against her jaw. Shocked by the sudden tirade, Quinn stood dumbly against the wall, realising as Rachel raised her dark eyebrows that she expected an answer. Quinn nodded quickly, and, apparently satisfied with this response, Rachel turned on her heel, storming back into her room and slamming the door. Leaving a dumbfounded Quinn outside to wonder how such a person could leave her simultaneously furious, and more turned on than she had ever been in her life.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Rachel's tirade had finally petered out after the first three hours of insulting Quinn Fabray. It was now just a lot of glaring at walls and muttered curse words about pink hair and preposterous areas of expertise ("I mean _honestly _how many times do you have to fire a gun to become a _specialist?"_). She was currently sitting on the floor of the kitchen, leaning against one of the cabinets, pensively chewing on a piece of dried banana, ignoring Brittany and Santana, who had stopped listening to her about half an hour ago, opting instead to kiss each other senseless on the kitchen floor. Rachel took Brittany's breathless sighs and Santana's deep moans to mean that they agreed with every point she made, choosing to ignore the fact that they were engrossed in each other and not her very good points about the utter pointlessness of Quinn's presence.

Under the pretence of asking their opinion on the newest crew member, Rachel had made her feelings known to nearly every person on board the McKinley, abandoning each attempt when she was not met with the response she desired.

In the control room, distracted from his work on the central computer, Artie had pointed out that Rachel's attack on Quinn's hair was completely hypocritical. "I don't think it's very fair that one of your main reasons for not liking her is her hair color, when yours is the same." Needless to say, Rachel had moved on to someone she hoped would be more sympathetic to her plight.

"She is an unnecessary addition to our already capable crew, Finn."

"Rachel, I know you're like, really good at firing guns and stuff, but Sylvester got us new ones, and we need Quinn to help us use them. They shoot lasers, Rachel, lasers! How cool is that?"

Rachel's day had gone on like this for the last six hours, ever since she had run into Quinn in the sleeping quarters the diva had been seeking a sympathetic ear. Moving on to Sam and Puck in the gym when Finn didn't meet her expectations, then Will, who she helped make lunch and finally to Mercedes in first aid. She knew Kurt would have been insightful, but he was with _Quinn, _giving her a tour of the ship, and the betrayal was too much for Rachel, so her last resort was Santana and Brittany. The women had quickly grown bored with Rachel, leading them to find entertainment elsewhere.

Rachel had now moved on to the critique of Quinn's wardrobe, and was well into her criticism of Quinn's _ridiculous _boots, when Puck walked into the room with an appreciative whistle. Santana's lips disconnected from Brittany's neck with a pop, leaving another bruise on the blonde's already colorful neck. Puck waltzed over to the fridge, ignoring Rachel, who had continued with her diatribe, undeterred by his presence, or by the fact that Santana's eyes were now on her.

"Listen, Man Hands - "

"Santana, you are aware that in our taxing line of work, having manly hands is a highly inadequate ins-"

"So not the point, Berry." Santana extracted herself from Brittany, sitting cross-legged opposite Rachel, her hand reaching behind her to tangle with Brittany's long fingers. Rachel waited with her eyebrows raised, slightly worried by the evil glint in Santana's eye.

"You totally have the hots for Quinn." Puck whirled from the fridge, letting it close with a snap as he dropped to the floor beside a smirking Santana, lustful eyes trained on Rachel. As realisation dawned on her, Brittany smiled slowly, squeezing Santana's hand in agreement, while Rachel sat, dumbfounded, looking at her three smiling co-workers as they awaited her response.

"I - I'm not - I don't... This is the most absurd accusation I've ever heard!" Santana's smirk only widened at Rachel's stuttered denial, Brittany frowned, and Puck raked his eyes up and down her body appreciatively, as though seeing her in a whole new light.

"No one said you had to be _gay, _Berry." Santana rolled her eyes, her fingers remaining tangled with Brittany's as the blonde sat up and tucked her chin against her knees.

"Anybody can like anybody, Rachel, it doesn't matter if it's a girl or a boy or a flower or whatever." Brittany smiled dreamily at Santana as the Latina kissed the tip of her nose fondly.

"My girl's right, dwarf. You gotta get it somewhere when we're stuck out here for months. I even caught Puckerman getting intimate with a peanut butter sandwich yesterday."

"Noah!"

"Rach, babe, I have needs." Puck shrugged his big shoulders, still smiling at Rachel, whose nose was wrinkled up in disgust.

"Rachel, no one's going to judge you if you like Quinn. She's really pretty. And nice. I talked to her for a bit this morning before Kurt stole her and made her go on his tour." Rachel's attention was back on Brittany, the blonde smiling at her with encouragement and excitement evident in her bright blue eyes. "You guys could go on double dates with me and Santana!" Brittany was bouncing up and down on the floor, clutching Santana's hands and squealing excitedly. Rachel smiled at Brittany, unable to resist her innocent excitement. Seeing Santana's smirk from the corner of her eye, Rachel cleared her throat to object to the idea, but was interrupted by the sound of Kurt's voice in the corridor.

* * *

Quinn had been on Kurt's tour for six hours and forty-three minutes. Not that she was counting or anything. Kurt was a nice guy, if a tad flamboyant for Quinn's taste. Usually left to her own devices, the weapons specialist was not accustomed to spending so much time in the company of another person, but even after almost seven hours, there had been no lull in conversation. If there was an award for talking, Quinn was sure Kurt would have won by a mile (she had not yet had the pleasure of more than a threat from Rachel Berry) and she only had to nod or hum her agreement to keep him talking. So far they had seen almost every corner of the McKinley, from the storage area to the control room, meeting all the crew members on their way. Quinn neither liked nor disliked anyone in particular, and was starting to notice smaller friendship groups and couples that had formed within the tight knit group.

In Quinn's experience, watching people usually gave you more of an insight into their character than talking did, and so chose to observe her new co-workers once introductions were made and polite small talk was done with. In her short time aboard the ship, Quinn knew that Sam liked Mercedes and Mercedes liked Sam, but neither were willing to admit it; Kurt was lonely, and bored (hence the extensive ship tour); Finn was a gentle giant, and wasn't really sure what he was doing, so used his position of authority to compensate. Will, the oldest aboard, was a terrible cook, despite the fact that it was his job, and tried to motivate the team to make himself feel useful, but was usually unsuccessful. He was nice enough, though.

Santana's sharp - and sometimes cruel - wit was softened by Brittany's innocence when she was around the lively blonde, which was always. Artie was funny and genuine, and a complete genius when it came to computers; Puckerman, despite his vulgar attempts at flirting (if his advances even warranted that title), was a decent guy that Quinn felt she could eventually get along with.

Despite the fact that Quinn found everyone she had met to be quite likeable, she refused to get attached. Soon enough the mission would be over, and Quinn Fabray would be off on another assignment, meeting a new crew and starting all over again. There was no point in making friends. She didn't really believe in friendship anyway. The only reason people got close to each other was because they wanted something. Whether it was money, sex, approval, or even just company, there was always something at stake, and Quinn Fabray didn't get used.

For the past six hours and... now forty-seven minutes, Quinn had been dragged around the metal corridors of the McKinley, feeling like she could navigate the cramped spaces blindfolded if she had to. And yet, she had not once run into Rachel. Was the girl still in her room? Was she avoiding Quinn? Quinn convinced herself that she only cared because she didn't want any conflict while stuck in the limited area of the starship, but there was a tiny part of her that _wanted_ to run into Rachel. Quinn felt a nervous flutter at every door Kurt lead her through, the feeling vanishing when the brown eyes she hoped to meet on the other side were absent. Kicking herself mentally, Quinn pushed thoughts of the woman from her head, berating herself for thinking of someone who, first of all, had threatened her, and second of all, would not even be in the same zone of the galaxy as Quinn two months from now.

These points notwithstanding, Rachel would not leave Quinn's head. Kurt's constant barrage of information was floating somewhere in her subconscious as Quinn's mind traced Rachel's jaw, her warm brown eyes, imagined her laugh.

_Quinn Fabray! You are being ridiculous. You've met the girl once. _

_ And she threatened you._

_ In a really passionate way. If she channeled that passion into - NO!_

By the final leg of the tour, Quinn was not paying attention to anything Kurt was saying, fighting with herself and not even registering the other voices echoing down the corridor to join her tour guide's. Completely lost in thoughts of Rachel's passion-filled yelling, Quinn didn't even notice that she was now listening to the girl's voice _outside _her mind, the sound magnified by the close walls of the corridor.

* * *

Rachel listened as Kurt's voice approached from the hall leading to the kitchen, describing the structure of the ship, along with its various security force fields, before beginning on the architecture of the kitchen.

"And here we have the kitchen itself! Along with a small dining area, and over there is the- oh hey, Rachel!" Kurt beamed at Rachel as he entered the room, lifting a puzzled eyebrow at her current company, soon joined by the other one when he saw Puck's indecent expression, and Santana's smirk, both directed at the girl on the floor across from them.

When Quinn trailed into the room after him, Santana's smirk grew as she winked at Rachel. Brittany jumped up from the floor to hug Quinn, who was obviously lost in thought. Rachel couldn't blame her. She had listened to Kurt go on and on about the ship's structure; he was an engineer, so it was understandable, but there was only so much information one could endure about the mechanics of an airlock before tuning out.

Brittany's hug seemed to have snapped Quinn out of her thoughts, and she glanced at Rachel, a slight blush forming on her cheeks before she buried her face in Brittany's shoulder. Rachel couldn't help but smile at the gesture, wondering if Quinn was blushing because she was being hugged, or if it was something else. Seeing that Santana was watching her, Rachel decided it would be best if she made an effort to at least be civil with Quinn. Maybe if Santana saw how unfazed she was by the other woman, all this talk of attraction would cease, and Rachel could regain an air of detachment. Honestly, the brunette didn't know what she felt about Quinn. She was angry that someone else had pink hair; Rachel Berry prided herself on being original, and now she wasn't. But it was more than that. There was something about Quinn that put Rachel on edge, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She wasn't attracted to Quinn. No. That wasn't possible. Was it? She was very pretty, maybe the prettiest girl Rachel had ever met. And pink did suit her. Actually, it made her look _hot. _And that nose piercing.

"Hi." Quinn's voice was scratchy, and cracked a little on the single syllable. Rachel stared at Quinn dumbly as Brittany let go of her, trying to decipher her body's reaction to the sound of Quinn's voice. This was the first time she'd heard the woman speak. Earlier, Rachel had left Quinn in the hallway outside her room before she had the chance to say anything about their - um - _encounter. _Thinking now about how close their bodies were, heat radiating off the taller girl as her shaky breaths ghosted across Rachel's face -

"Oh, _God." _Too late, Rachel realised she had spoken aloud, and cracked her eyes open, not even recalling when she closed them. Seeing that everyone in the room was looking at her, expressions ranging from smug to confused, she shook her head and stood from the floor. Dusting off her tight leather pants, Rachel cleared her throat, and, ignoring her heated body, walked over to Quinn. "Look, Quinn, I just wanted to apologise for my earlier behaviour. While I pride myself on originality, my treatment of you was completely unacceptable and I would like to extend you an apology, and offer my friendship and camaraderie." Satisfied with herself, Rachel extended her hand to Quinn, offering it for the other woman to shake.

Quinn had left her brain somewhere near the doorway, all coherent thought lost when she saw the woman she had been trying not to think about all day was wearing _leather_. Tearing her eyes from Rachel's legs to stare at her extended hand, some instinctive part of Quinn realised she was meant to shake it, and took the soft hand into her own, surprised by the warmth that enveloped her fingers.

Looking up at Rachel's face, Quinn became aware that her memory had not done it justice. Rachel was _gorgeous; _the anger she had seen this morning was gone, replaced with a warm, close-lipped smile and a spark in the deep brown that Quinn couldn't place.

When her brain finally caught up with her body, Quinn's face was on fire, and she quickly pulled her hand from Rachel's, knowing if she didn't speak soon the smaller woman would think there was something wrong with her.

"It's fine, Rachel, really." Now it was Rachel's turn to blush as she picked at a loose thread of her grey T-shirt with her left hand.

_Oh, God the way she says my name - snap out of it, Rachel! _

Attempting to rein in her less-than-polite thoughts about Quinn, Rachel smiled again, making a snap decision that caused her to grin at Quinn. Turning from the pink-haired woman in front of her, Rachel walked back towards Santana and Puck, both of whom had watched the exchange with interest, along with a confused Kurt and an excited Brittany. Winking at Santana, Rachel nodded her head slightly, confirming the latina's suspicions. Rachel Berry wanted Quinn Fabray, and when Rachel had her mind set on something, nothing would get in her way.


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry it's been so long! I'm not really happy with this, and it's short, but I wanted to put something up. Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed and alerted :)**

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything.**

* * *

Quinn couldn't sleep. It was her first night aboard the McKinley and she had been tossing and turning for over three hours, willing sleep to take over her body. Quinn reasoned that she was restless because this was a new environment, unfamiliar, uncomfortable. She'd been in strange places before, even dangerous places, but nothing so far like the McKinley. To Quinn, it seemed like the crew were related. She had been on ships before where the workers bickered and fought, forming smaller friendship groups and couples to avoid those they didn't like. It was a coping mechanism. When people were forced to be around each other in such a claustrophobic environment, it was inevitable that there would be disagreements. To Quinn, the crew of the McKinley seemed different. She had seen them argue, noticed couples and friends. But overall, they all seemed to really care about one another. No matter how much they said they didn't, there was a bond between them. She imagined that this is what a family would be like, never having known for herself. Quinn had tried to convince herself that it was this reminder of her own lack of family, or even acquaintances, that was keeping her awake. It was easier to pretend she was on edge because of feelings about her past than to admit the real reason she was still awake at three in the morning.

Ever since her encounter with Rachel in the kitchen earlier, Quinn couldn't keep thoughts of her away. After her apology, and Quinn's less-than-smooth response, Kurt had dragged the stunned weapons specialist from the kitchen and back into the hallway, regaling her with more tales of the ships history, a knowing glint in his eye.

Groaning, Quinn tossed the coarse blanket from her body, sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets in her fingers. She stood, her black shirt slipping from where it had ridden up to rest high on her thighs. She debated getting dressed, but decided against it, concluding that no one in their right mind would be awake at this hour. After spending the majority of the day with these people, Quinn should have realised that not many of them were in their right mind.

* * *

Rachel sat alone in the kitchen, a menthol cigarette hanging loosely from her mouth, a pen poised in her hand above a blank piece of paper. Frowning, she threw the pen against the table in front of her, drawing deeply from the cigarette and removing it from her mouth. It was pointless. She had been unable to write a song since... well since that _thing _happened that she refused to think about, or speak about, or even let take shape inside her ever-working mind.

The old Rachel Berry would have written a song about exactly that. Thrown all her feelings into her music, moving past the pain and into clearer space. She had tried. But nothing fixed it, and so instead she pretended not to care. The only problem was that she now seemed to have some kind of permanent writer's block. Whatever, she didn't need to write music anyway. People already complained about her singing _other_ people's songs. Imagine what they'd say if she started belting out her own in the middle of karaoke night.

_Not that I care in the slightest. I'm an indifferent cigarette-smoking badass. _

Rachel's thoughts were interrupted by the gentle slap of bare feet on metal as someone approached the kitchen. Rachel quickly crumpled the blank sheet of paper into a ball, tossing it into the nearby trash can and taking another long draw from the cigarette in her hand.

* * *

Quinn had not expected anyone to be awake, so when she saw the light at the end of the hallway, she debated going back to bed. Imagining staring at the ceiling for another three hours, she decided to just grit her teeth and have a conversation with whoever was in the kitchen at this late hour. Berating herself for forgetting her cigarettes, Quinn entered the kitchen, suddenly remembering that she wasn't wearing any pants.

Too late.

Rachel turned her head to glance at Quinn over her shoulder, raking her gaze over Quinn's bare legs before inhaling from her cigarette and blowing a smoke ring high into the air.

Both women watched the smoke until it had disappeared before returning their gaze to each other. They stared at one another for what felt like an hour (a very intense, electrically charged hour) before Rachel broke the eye contact, turning her head back to face away from Quinn, who was extremely aware of her semi-nakedness and the fact that she had pretty much just been eye fucked by the hottest girl she'd ever seen.

"Do you frequently wander around your workplace half-naked, Fabray? Or are we just special?" Rachel quipped, addressing the wall, her face invisible to Quinn.

"I didn't expect anyone to be up, _Berry." _Quinn spat back, angry at the blush that was forming on her cheeks. "It's not like you really seem to mind, anyway." Quinn smirked, pleased with herself for her ability to actually string words together around the brunette this time. Rachel's head whipped around and she grinned at Quinn, taking another draw of her cigarette before replying.

"Oh please don't misunderstand, Quinn. I don't mind _at all." _

Rachel's eyes smouldered and Quinn's fingers itched to tug her shirt down over her legs. _One to Berry._ Instead, she tilted her chin up and walked past Rachel to the chair opposite her, watching as Rachel followed the flex of every muscle in her toned legs. Smirking, Quinn slowly lowered herself into the chair, crossing one long leg over the other and leaning forward to cup her chin in her palm, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and raising an eyebrow.

Rachel cleared her throat loudly, breathing in several lungfuls of smoke before speaking.

"So, will you be attending karaoke night tomorrow?" Rachel's dark eyes darted around the room as she spoke, looking anywhere but at the woman opposite her. Quinn smiled before sitting back in her chair. _One to Fabray. _

"I'm not much of a singer."

"It's essentially our last night before we arrive in zone 12, Quinn." Rachel's gaze finally came to rest on Quinn as she leaned forward, "enjoy it." She stubbed out her cigarette on the worn wood of the table, resting her elbows in front of her.

"We won't be in zone twelve for three days yet, I have plenty of time to enjoy myself," Quinn said wryly, earning a smirk from Rachel. Quinn had no desire to participate in any of the crew's social events. While she had been openly flirting with Rachel, she had no intention for anything to happen. Quinn did not get involved with coworkers. Hell, she didn't get involved, period. It was all about the physical. Fuck 'em and forget 'em. This philosophy had saved Quinn a lot of trouble in the past and she had no intention of tossing it aside now. If she had to share this tiny ship with Rachel for weeks, or even months, they would not be having sex. It was as simple as that. Things would get too complicated. Distancing herself would allow Quinn to leave the McKinley with ease when the time came. But that didn't mean she couldn't tease Rachel a little bit. After all _it's all about the teasing, and not about the pleasing._

"Yes, but if you _do _come to karaoke, you'll need those three days to recover from your hangover. And from my unprecedented talent, of course." Quinn wasn't sure what talent Rachel was talking about, but before her mind was flooded with images of the uh, _talent_, its owner had interrupted. "As you well know," here she frowned at Quinn, rebuking her for laughing at the notes on her whiteboard that morning. "I am the champion of karaoke, and I would appreciate a challenge. I have deduced from the timbre of your speaking voice that you would have quite an interesting singing voice - perhaps a little sharp. I wouldn't mind winning against a new opponent." Quinn narrowed her eyes at a grinning Rachel, certain she had just been insulted.

"I didn't know it was possible to win at karaoke." Quinn raised an eyebrow in question, and Rachel was quick to reassure her qualms.

"Oh, I assure you, Quinn, when Rachel Berry does anything, she comes out on top," the brunette quipped, drawing a blush from Quinn, whose thoughts had immediately turned dirty (which she was certain was Rachel's intention). Seeing her companion's expression, Rachel laughed, her dark hair falling behind her as she leaned her head back, causing Quinn to blush again as she admired the new view of Rachel's long neck. Recovering from her mirth, Rachel stood from her chair, removing a cigarette from her packet with a practiced hand, and placing both the cigarette, and her black lighter on the table before the other woman.

"If you come tomorrow night, you'll get to see for yourself." Rachel bit her full bottom lip, warm eyes sparkling at Quinn as she turned around with flip of her pink-streaked hair, leaving the kitchen, and an extremely flustered Fabray, in her wake.

Quinn lit the cigarette with shaky fingers, inhaling slowly. "Christ almighty." She muttered under her breath, releasing some of the smoke in her lungs and blowing the rest towards the ceiling. There was no way in hell she wasn't showing up at karaoke


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**AN: Thank you so so much to everyone who's reviewed! You guys make my day. And everyone who's alerted or favourited, you're all fabulous :)**

* * *

Quinn had fought a losing battle with her conscience over her presence in the small carpeted room on Monday night. She had paced the floor of her small room, bumping her shin on the metal frame of her bunk three times, listing the pros and cons in her mind. Nevertheless, here she was. "McKinley-Monday-Madness-Karaoke-Extravaganza," as Kurt had titled it - with jazz hands. Despite having rolled his eyes every time the event was mentioned, Kurt had arrived at Quinn's door to escort her - interrupting her pacing - dressed in black slacks held up by red suspenders over a white, ruffled shirt, the outfit complete with a pair of white doc martens and a top hat.

_Dear God let there be alcohol._

Quinn looked down at her own long tie-dyed skirt, loose black singlet and buckled up boots, feeling underdressed.

"Don't worry, Fabray, you manage to pull of the whole, I-just-threw-this-on-but-I-still-look-fabulous look. Some of us aren't so gifted, and have to try a little harder." Smiling and taking her hand, he pulled Quinn from her open doorway, leaving her to wonder whether she had just been insulted or complimented - something she had had to consider on more than one occasion with Kurt as her tour guide - she had spent most of the afternoon choosing this outfit. Rachel had been at the forefront of her mind almost the entire time as she relived last night's conversation over and over again, remembering every lip bite and finger twitch along with every word that passed between them.

Deciding to take Kurt's statement as a positive, she followed him down the hallway towards the back of the ship, her stomach doing small flips in time with her skittering heart.

* * *

Quinn hadn't thought she would receive any more special attention now that her first day was over, but Kurt had been at her door first thing the morning after her late night encounter with Rachel, dried fruit in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, a bright smile on his face. Quinn had groaned and pulled her pillow over her tousled pink hair, only sitting up when Kurt waved the coffee under her nose. She didn't quite understand his angle; being her guide on the first day was plausible, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but waking her with coffee and breakfast when she was certain she had seen the whole ship? He was an engineer. Didn't he have machinery or blueprints, to, well, engineer?

"Kurt, this is nice of you and everything, but you don't have to babysit me." Quinn had always been blunt, maybe even more so when she had been woken up, but she did try not to be rude, he had brought her coffee after all. Kurt quirked an eyebrow, and for an odd second, Quinn felt like she was looking at a well-groomed male version of herself.

"Quinn, I get the feeling that you're not much of a people person." He tilted his head from side to side as he spoke, clasping his hands in front of him. "I just want to help you. We're like a family here, and it'll be easier for you if I help you out. Make your integration into McKinley life that much smoother."

Quinn took a loud sip of her coffee, placing the steaming mug on the small table next to her bed and nibbling on a piece of dried apple. "Integration isn't really my style. I do my job, I leave. That's how I've always done it and that's how I like it."

"Do you really? Like it, I mean. You must get lonely." Kurt's voice had softened from its earlier official tone, and in his eyes Quinn thought she could see some genuine concern. It made her uncomfortable. Quinn Fabray didn't do friendship. She worked, and occasionally had a one night stand. So far, everything had worked out, and while sometimes she got a small pang in her chest, she brushed it away, frustrated at herself; people weren't worth the trouble.

Choosing to ignore Kurt's question, she deflected, "if you're going to keep up with these early morning wake-up calls you'd better start bringing me some bacon." Kurt went along with her subject change, smiling and placing his fingers to his chin in a thinking gesture.

"I'm not so sure about bacon, but we might have some beef jerky?" Quinn chuckled, watching Kurt as he turned away, rifling through the small closet to choose her an outfit for the day.

* * *

A little over twelve hours later, the pair stood amongst the rest of the crew in a small room near the engines of the McKinley, green carpet stretching from wall-to-wall, a tiny stage set up in one corner, complete with tacky gold microphones. Quinn relished the feel of the thick carpet giving against the soles of her boots, tempted to take them off and dance around in bare feet. It was not often she got to stand on carpet; in outer space, most everything was metal, and this was the first time she had even _seen_ carpet on board a starship.

Seeing her shuffling feet, Artie spoke up from his position next to Kurt, "weird isn't it? Rachel insisted we have a carpeted room for her to sing in. Better for the acoustics. I chose the colour, though." Artie pushed his glasses further up his nose and Quinn nodded absentmindedly, her lips turning up slightly at the thought of Rachel demanding carpet from Sue Sylvester. She had only met the woman once, but the thought of the two arguing over acoustics nearly made her laugh out loud

Almost the entire crew was there, with the exception of Rachel, who hadn't been seen all day. Quinn was sure she had spent most of it planning some dramatic entrance, and it seemed the rest of the crew agreed.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she burst out from under the stage. She's small enough to fit under there." Santana.

"Remember the time she turned off the gravity and floated in? I could totally see up her dress. That was hot." Puck. He offered Quinn a beer, which she gratefully accepted, needing the alcohol to survive the image he had just provided.

"Hell to the no. That was just plain annoying. Ain't no reason to have us all floating around like helium filled balloons. Uh-uh." Mercedes.

"It took me forever to get over to the switch to turn it back on, too." Sam.

"It was magic. We could fly." Brittany.

Quinn was smiling behind the neck of her beer bottle, imagining the crew floating above the green carpet, yelling at Rachel, helpless to get back down. Just as she began to giggle, she was interrupted by Will clapping his hands together from the edge of the stage, grinning excitedly.

"Okay, guys, are we ready for another round of Monday night madness?" There was a large cheer from Finn, but most of the crew rolled their eyes, claiming they were only here because it was a break from the monotony that was life on the McKinley.

"Oh, but Rachel isn't here yet." Finn looked around expectantly, his height giving him an advantage, unable to spot the tiny brunette.

"Obviously Finnocence, the only way you'd miss Berry's entrance is if you were dead," Santana called, placing an empty beer bottle on a table as Puck produced another, seemingly from thin air.

Just as Santana twisted the lid of the bottle with her forearm, the lights in the room went out, leaving them all in complete darkness. There were a few crashes here and there, followed by a series of angry voices.

"Santana, your boobs got so much bigger!"

"Uh, girl, that ain't Santana."

_Smash!_

"Wheezy, keep our hands off my woman!"

_Crack!_

"Ow! Dude, that was my goddamn foot!"

"I am the darkness..."

"Sam, what kind of creepy impression are you doing now?"

When the lights came back up, it was to a scene of chaos. Santana was holding Mercedes by the hair while Brittany groped her breast, Kurt was caressing Sam's hair with a dreamy expression, Finn was hopping around, clutching his foot while Artie looked on apologetically. Quinn slapped Puck's hand away from her ass and turned to face the stage. Amidst the chaos, most of the group had failed to notice that there was now an astronaut present, standing stock still centre stage, holding a gold microphone in one hand. With the press of a button, the reflective glass of the helmet hissed open, revealing Rachel, who nodded slightly to Will behind some controls in the corner, the gesture made difficult by the space suit.

Obviously Rachel had recruited Will to be a part of her elaborate entrance earlier, as he had used the cover of darkness to sneak over to the controls, promptly pressing play on Rachel's signal.

The immediately recognisable introduction of Celine Dion's _My Heart Will Go On _began blasting through the speaker system, eliciting a collective groan from the group. Quinn, however, was captivated.

From the first note, she was hypnotised by Rachel's voice. She had heard it the day before through her bedroom door, but that was nothing compared to the way Rachel was now belting out the lines of the classic song, emotions expertly playing across her face as she sang.

She grasped the microphone in her thick white gloves, leaning in to the chorus, her brow furrowed in concentration. Quinn could hear her coworkers stifling their laughter; Rachel did look ridiculous, singing Celine Dion with all her might while wearing a spacesuit at least three sizes too big. Maybe Quinn was slightly tipsy - she had only had one drink, but she didn't drink often and knowing Puck, he probably made this stuff himself so it could easily be ten-times as alcoholic as regular beer - but Quinn thought Rachel looked amazing. She watched, spellbound as the brunette in the spacesuit sang her way expertly through the second verse towards the bridge. As the music built, Quinn thought she saw Rachel's eyes glittering with unshed tears, but before she could make sure, her face was hidden by the shadow of the large helmet. Quinn wondered if Rachel was singing to someone in particular, the song seemed to affect her so deeply. Maybe she was just an outstanding actress. Either way, when the song ended, Quinn clapped and cheered loudly, joined by the rest of the crew, Santana hastily wiping away a tear, glaring at Quinn when she saw she'd been caught.

Stepping off the stage, Rachel grabbed the beer offered by Puck, downing the entire bottle in one go. She slammed the bottle on the table and wiped her mouth, eyeing Quinn up and down with unmistakable desire, all traces of the song's emotion gone. Quinn shivered visibly and Rachel grinned, tearing her eyes away and addressing the room at large: "LET'S PARTY!"


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: is at the bottom this time**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual.**

* * *

She was due on stage in half an hour and Rachel was struggling to get into her suit. She had long lived by the tradition of drinking a glass of whisky before a performance, but tonight, she had already downed two glasses of the thick liquid. It wasn't that she was nervous about the actual _performance, _she was Rachel Berry after all, her voice was outstanding and her acting skills well above average. She could have an audience laughing one minute and crying not thirty seconds later. But it had been a long time since she had been in front of an actual audience.

_"Don't dwell in the past, Rachel, or you'll miss the present and fail in the future." _Came her dad's voice, echoing from the past it was urging her to forget.

Rachel somehow manoeuvred the half-full glass to her mouth, managing to spill some inside her helmet before it reached her mouth, the alcohol burning a trail through her chest before settling in her stomach, the burning heat pulling her from her thoughts. Rachel's small frame did not hold alcohol too well, and after three large glasses of straight whisky, she was swaying where she stood, the cumbersome space suit making movement much more difficult.

Laughing at herself, Rachel thought of the reason she had chosen to drink two glasses past her usual self-imposed limit. Quinn Fabray. The first (and only) time Quinn had listened to her singing, Rachel had found the other woman outside her door, laughing hysterically. At the time, she hadn't thought much of it, but now that her thoughts were mostly consumed by Quinn (and constructive criticism for her coworkers, of course) Rachel couldn't help but dwell on their first encounter.

She had persuadedQuinn to come to karaoke night purely for the purpose of showing the weapons specialist (a job title Rachel still considered to be extremely obnoxious, regardless of its owner's sex appeal) what an amazing performer she was. Enlisting the easily-convinced Will to help her had been easy, and she had given him precise instructions regarding what he was to do and when (down to the exact second) he was supposed to do it.

Confident that her entrance would go off without a hitch, Rachel was then left to come up with appropriate attire for the occasion. Having already decided on the song, she was trying to keep with the classic _Titanic _theme, but was at a complete loss over what to wear. She obviously wouldn't find any 20th century clothing aboard a spacecraft in the 22nd century, so she had tried to be innovative, adding her own modern twist.

_If Jack and Rose were in the same situation in this century, obviously their debate over the wooden door would be over a spacesuit! Thus leaving Rose to float around in space alone, waiting for rescue._

Rachel's subconscious could admit that she was grasping at straws, but even her internal debates were heated, and Rachel was stubborn, so stuck by her idea. However, five hours later when she was drunk and trying not to trip over her own feet on the way to the small room at the back of the McKinley, she might have regretted her decision just a tiny bit.

* * *

During her heartfelt ballad, she avoided looking at Quinn. While Rachel was an amazing actress, she drew on her own feelings to make a performance perfect, and she didn't want the other woman seeing just how deeply the song resonated with her. Unbeknownst to Rachel, it was this raw display of emotion that drew Quinn in. Nevertheless, it was not until she stumbled from the stage (downing even more alcohol, unsurprisingly produced by Noah) that Rachel finally made eye contact with Quinn.

_Oh God, is that a midriff-baring top? I CAN SEE HER MIDRIFF. Is that a tattoo? It's a tattoo. I _have _to sleep with her. _

Seeing Quinn shiver, Rachel grinned and turned away.

"LET'S PARTY!"

Her declaration met with cheers, Rachel pulled her helmet from her head, dark hair cascading down her back. Turning her head to look at Quinn through a curtain of hair, Rachel smiled, turning fully to face the taller woman and placing the helmet on a nearby table.

"Would you mind helping me out of this suit, Quinn? It's quite hot in here." Managing to keep her composure, Quinn merely smiled her agreement, stepping over to Rachel and helping her out of the suit. Pulling off the heavy boots before stepping out of the suit and busying herself with pulling on a pair of heeled black boots, Rachel failed to notice Quinn's reaction to what she had been wearing _underneath _her costume.

Quinn felt all the heat in her body pool between her legs as her eyes roamed over Rachel's bare legs, up to her ass - barely covered by a tight black skirt. Like her legs, Rachel's toned arms were bare, her stomach and breasts covered by a tight red tank top, leaving little to the imagination. Quinn was pulled from her haze by a shout from across the room.

"Be more careful with your leering, Fabray!" A chorus of laughter erupted after Santana's statement, and Quinn, rather than bowing her head in shame, met Rachel's eyes (level with her own because of Rachel's boots), challenging the brunette. She could see that Rachel was well on her way to being drunk, but she was staring back at Quinn, her brown eyes glowing under their tipsy glaze.

Rachel was drunk. When she had first started drinking years ago, it was obvious to anyone around her when she was even slightly inebriated. But over the years, Rachel had learnt to hold her alcohol, and how to act sober when she most definitely was not. It was a skill that came in handy, especially when one was trying to impress an extremely attractive pink-haired goddess who was smirking at her from barely a foot away. Rachel would have done anything to lean in and kiss Quinn's smiling mouth, to take her full bottom lip between her teeth and bite down gently, then -

_You are getting _way _ahead of yourself there, Rachel. _

Clearing her throat, Rachel broke her gaze from Quinn's, seeking another drink from a nearby ice-bucket to calm her thoughts.

_If anything that's going to make it worse. But by all means, don't listen to me. I'm just your better judgement. _

Ignoring her own thoughts, Rachel twisted the lid off her beer and took a long gulp of the bitter liquid, smiling as the bubbles ran down her throat.

"Quinn," she began, trailing her hand down Quinn's forearm, entwining their fingers and leading them over to some chairs by the wall. Kurt was currently on stage singing _All The Single Ladies _(with accompanying dance moves), and it would have been slightly difficult to hold a conversation had they sat right by the boisterous performance. Santana and Brittany took up the open space in front of the raised platform, copying Kurt's dance moves perfectly, much to the enjoyment of Puck.

"Tell me something about you," Rachel said after dropping Quinn's hand. Reluctant to let go (and slightly tipsy) Quinn quickly grabbed Rachel's hand, drawing it into her lap and playing with her fingers. Rachel smiled innocently at Quinn, grateful for the gesture, bringing her other hand up to trace the veins on Quinn's wrist, causing the other woman to shiver.

"Um, well, there's not really that much to tell, Rachel." Quinn could barely string words together while Rachel's thumb ran circles over her pale skin, let alone come up with a topic of conversation.

"Come on Quinn, there must be something." Rachel had switched back from innocent to seductive in a second, and with her thumb still outlining patterns on Quinn's wrist, moving further up her forearm with every stroke, Quinn felt heat once again pool in her stomach, sliding down between her legs.

"Um, well, I'm a, uh, I work with, um, guns." Quinn's voice had risen well-above its normal pitch, causing Rachel to chuckle, glancing down at her hand as it traced the crease on the inside of Quinn's elbow.

"Mm-hmmm. I know. What's your favourite one?" Rachel trailed her index finger back down Quinn's arm, boldly leaning her head down to press her mouth against Quinn's palm. Smiling when she heard the gasp above her, Rachel glanced up at Quinn, raising her eyebrows in expectation.

"Um, plasma cutter. Mmmm, yeah. Plasma... Cutter." Quinn had almost lost all coherent thought by this point. Rachel sat up straight again, bringing Quinn's hand with her, pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to each of her fingertips. Keeping the pretence of conversation going, Rachel murmured her response against Quinn's fingers, her warm breath causing her companion to shudder.

"Mine too." Quinn did not even attempt to respond, humming her acknowledgment as her eyes slipped closed, the image of Rachel kissing other places flickering across the darkness. Just as she felt the ghost of Rachel's tongue on her fingertip, the screech of a microphone ripped the women from their heated moment.

"Y'all can do the nasty later. It's time for Quinn to sing! Get up here, girl." Quinn groaned as Rachel released her hand, raising her middle finger at Mercedes. Santana was doubled over in laughter, leaning on Brittany for support. And as Quinn surveyed the room, she remembered that she and Rachel were not alone.

All the boys were gawking at them, save for Kurt, who was inspecting his nails indifferently, and Will, who gestured excitedly for her to take the stage, choosing to ignore the fact that Rachel was probably just about to take Quinn's finger into her mouth before Mercedes had ripped them from bliss. Quinn moaned quietly at the thought, causing Rachel to shoot her a lust-filled glance, longing to continue where she left off.

Knowing they would not relent until she sang, Quinn stood from her chair, twisting the cap off a beer and downing the entire thing as Rachel had done earlier. When Quinn looked back at her, Rachel bit down on her lower lip, staring up at Quinn with dark, frustrated eyes. Quinn mouthed a "sorry" to Rachel, earning a wink that turned her knees to jelly, making it very difficult to step up onto the stage where Mercedes was offering her the gold microphone.

Throwing back a mischievous grin, Mercedes left Quinn alone on the stage. Confident in her ability, and knowing the perfect song to sing, Quinn looked over to the controls where Will was looking at her expectantly.

"Do you have any Jace Everett?" Will nodded reluctantly, hitting a button on the controls before stepping back to lean against the wall. As the opening riff played, Quinn began swaying her hips to the beat, her long skirt flowing around her legs.

_When you came in the air went out_

Quinn looked directly at Rachel as she sang, for once shocking the brunette if her expression was anything to go by. Rachel's jaw hung wide open and her fingers dug into the skin of her thighs.

"Berry close your mouth. The bugs'll fly in!" Santana shouted over the music.

"Gross," came Brittany's quieter response, causing Quinn to laugh into the microphone. Rachel threw the pair a dirty look before turning back to Quinn, her jaw now clenched tightly shut.

_I don't know who you think you are_

_but before the night is through_

_I wanna do bad things with you_

The room erupted in cheers and whoops as Quinn sang, her eyes never leaving Rachel's. Even from across the room and with the lights shining in her face, Quinn could see the lust in Rachel's expression. Quinn licked her lips before the final line, bending low over the microphone,

_I wanna do real bad things with you_

Rachel crossed her legs tightly, folding her arms in front of her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, raking her dark gaze over Quinn's body and nodding slightly. Quinn stepped gracefully from the stage and walked towards Rachel, leaning down so she was level with Rachel's ear.

"Not tonight, Berry," Quinn breathed, trailing her fingertips up the side of Rachel's neck. Quinn stood straight once more, glancing down at Rachel's frustrated expression and smirking. As she left the room, Quinn felt Rachel's stare burning a hole in her bare back and attempted to ignore the heat throbbing between her legs as she returned to her room.

* * *

**AN: thanks again for all your reviews! I'm really glad people like this (gleekmx1 your comment made my day! and HIJKay I don't know how closely this will follow dead space. I haven't played it in a really long time, but I did add in the plasma cutter ;) so I hope you liked that)**

**The song was _Bad Things _by Jace Everett. aka, the True Blood theme song.**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN. Sorry it's been a while. And sorry if this is rubbish. My brain isn't working properly and I don't like this chapter but I had to write something. Hope it's ok. I'll do my best to update soon. As usual thanks for all your reviews and alerts/favourites, you're all great :)**

**Disclaimer. As usual, I don't own anything. **

* * *

It was two in the afternoon when Quinn finally emerged from her room, hair wild and limbs heavy. Squinting in the bright light, she jumped back in shock when she came face to face with a blurry figure.

"Whuzgoinon?" Quinn tried and failed to form coherent words as her eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh light in the corridor.

"I could ask you precisely the same thing, Quinn Fabray." Shit. Rachel was mad. Why though? Oh, yes, last night. "What the fuck, Quinn? You don't flirt shamelessly with someone, sing an _extremely _suggestive song to them, only to strut out not a minute later! Do you have any idea what you did to me, Quinn? I was in physical pain!" Quinn pressed her thighs together in an effort to quell the building heat. Rachel looked hot when she was mad.

"I'm... sorry?" Was that the appropriate response? Quinn hoped so, she needed to get away, or she was going to fuck Rachel right here in the hallway.

"You damn well should be! It's very rare that I find myself attracted to someone so quickly. I mean, you _are _extremely good looking, but there's something else I just can't quite - not the point!" Rachel shook her head and tried to regain some of her indignation. Quinn could see her struggling to remain angry, but the fury slowly dissipated from her expression. Rachel's eyebrows scrunched together in the middle of her forehead and anger was replaced by confusion. She looked adorable, and something inside Quinn melted slightly.

Sighing, Quinn tried to explain. "Look, Rachel, it's not that I meant to be a tease. Well, actually, I did, but I didn't think you'd be this upset." Quinn winced at her feeble excuse, wringing her hands in front of her. She wasn't used to explaining herself. This was why Quinn slept with strangers; no apologies, no explanations. She hadn't even had sex with Rachel and already, someone had been hurt.

"I'm not accustomed to being turned down, Quinn, especially not by someone who has just had the pleasure of listening to me sing."

"It's not that I don't _want _to fuck you, Rachel." Quinn clenched her eyes shut in humiliation. Did she really just say that? Her brain needed to be awake at least half an hour before it started filtering her thoughts. She opened her eyes again slowly, expecting Rachel to be angry or upset, anything other than smiling and looking at Quinn like she was a piece of meat. Rachel's dark eyes sent heat throughout Quinn's body, jolting her awake more effectively than ten cups of coffee. Attempting to swallow around the lump in her throat, Quinn forced herself to say what she had to, her voice still scratchy and soft from sleep. "I don't sleep with co-workers. I'm sorry for leading you on." Rachel clenched her eyes shut and Quinn watched her abrupt rejection sink in. Rachel's cheeks twitched as she hid various emotions, Quinn unable to tell what she was thinking while her expressive eyes were closed. After a few seconds, Rachel opened her eyes, but, instead of being sad or angry, as Quinn expected, she looked determined, dark eyes gleaming under harsh fluorescent light, never leaving Quinn.

"If that's what you want Quinn, that's fine. But I would advise you against leading people on in the future. I trust we will still be able to work amicably together." Quinn gaped at Rachel as the brunette held her hand out, presumably for Quinn to shake. After a few seconds of shocked silence, Quinn took the smaller hand in her own, remembering the gentle pattern Rachel's fingers had traced up and down her arm the night before. Quinn felt herself blush as Rachel removed her hand, smiling at Quinn before turning and walking down the hallway, glancing once over her shoulder before disappearing.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn pinched her forearm to make sure she hadn't dreamt the entire conversation.

* * *

"Berry's definitely got an agenda," Puck nodded his head as he spoke, glancing around and leaning towards Quinn before opening his mouth once more. "So you guys really didn't do the dirty?" Quinn rolled her eyes, leaning away from him and taking a drag from her cigarette.

The pair sat in the kitchen. It was late on Tuesday night, and the McKinley was due to arrive in Zone Twelve the next afternoon. Quinn had a lot of work to do before that happened, but had spent most of the day in her room, trying to figure out what Rachel was up to. She didn't seem the type to take rejection lying down.

After a few hours of failing to discern Rachel's hidden motives, Quinn had decided to ask someone who knew better, and had stumbled upon Puck in the kitchen.

"But what is it?" Quinn watched as smoke billowed from her mouth, curling up towards the ceiling before disappearing. Puck sucked on the filter of his own cigarette, making sure he got every bit of nicotine out of it before stubbing the butt out in the ash tray.

"Listen, Q. Berry's complicated. When she wants someone, she gets... I dunno how to put this without sounding like a dick." Puck scratched his head, blowing out a breath and continuing, "she's crazy." He shrugged and put his hands up, admitting his failure. He sounded like a dick. Quinn frowned down at her cigarette, looking through it as she thought. Why would Rachel just give up? And why did she seem so damn chipper about it?

_Why do I care?_

"We dated for a while." Quinn felt like someone had poured cold water over her head.

"_What?" _Puck didn't miss the venom in Quinn's voice, or the violent way she ground her cigarette out in the ashtray, imagining it was his face.

"Chill out, Fabray. It was for like, a week, and we never did anything. Except make out. She is a fucking good kisser." He had a stupid smile on his face, but quickly dropped it when he saw Quinn's glare. "Anyway, the point is, she made me a calendar, with dates of our dates, or whatever. And cats with our faces on them. Weird shit. Then she decided she was a lesbian, and got all hot and badass. And then she dumped my ass." He said all of this with a fond smile on his face, and Quinn couldn't help but smile with him.

"She made you a calendar?" Quinn tried to sound indifferent, but she found the whole thing completely endearing.

"Yeah, a fucking ugly one." Quinn was smiling like an idiot, imagining a handmade Rachel Berry calendar. Puck grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "You got it bad, Q."

"Don't be ridiculous, Puckerman, I do not blur the lines with co-workers. Rachel is no exception."

"We'll see, Fabray. Rachel's obviously got a plan, so you'd better be ready for it." Puck pushed his chair back with a wink, leaving Quinn alone in the kitchen to convince herself that she was not attracted to Rachel. She returned to her room twenty minutes later, head full of laughing Rachel, singing Rachel, flirting Rachel. Tomorrow she would have to instruct gun-wielding Rachel, and she was both terrified and turned on by the thought.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8.**

**AN. As always, thank you for reviewing/alerting/favoriting. This chapter gets a bit detailed about the weapons, so I hope I did Dead Space justice.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. **

* * *

The McKinley had an estimated arrival time of 21:23. In other words, the ship would cross into zone twelve in just over fourteen hours. Rachel sat in the kitchen, sipping intermittently from a cup of black coffee, cigarette hanging loosely from her fingers. She assumed that Quinn was somewhere in weapon storage, gathering guns together in preparation to train those members of the crew that may need to use them.

Rachel scoffed. As if anyone needed to train her how to use a gun. She'd first held one when she was eight years old, and even though Quinn's company claimed these were state of the art, never before seen technology, Rachel doubted that these weapons were any different from those she was used to.

It didn't matter. It was all part of the plan.

* * *

Just under an hour later, Quinn stood in the gym; all the equipment had been pushed to the edges of the room, leaving a large space in the middle, which was littered with assorted guns and ammo. Quinn had checked the equipment thoroughly to ensure that someone like Puck didn't shoot his own hand off, or someone else's. None of the guns were loaded, and just to be sure, Quinn's own gun wasn't either. A fact that made her extremely uncomfortable. She wasn't used to having a useless weapon hanging by her side.

She stood in the corner of the room, leaning against a pile of weights, smoking a cigarette. One by one, the members of the security and weapons team filed in, the boys' mouths hanging open at the display in front of them. For the first time since they had been in the same room, Puck was ogling something other than Quinn, causing the woman to smirk. Her smile dropped when after fifteen minutes, everyone who needed to be was there, except for Rachel.

As if summoned by Quinn's thoughts, the door to the gym slid open with a quiet whoosh, revealing a smiling Rachel, wearing nothing but tight black pants and a sports bra, her hair pulled back from her face in a long braid.

"Woah, babe, you look like Lara Croft." Finn nodded to Puck in agreement, while Rachel looked confused.

"Who?" She asked, a cute frown on her face.

"Rach. Lara Croft. Tomb Raider? It's a classic!" Finn exclaimed, appalled at Rachel's ignorance. Sam grinned, and the room groaned collectively, sensing another impression was on the way.

"Right, so... Pretty much touch anything, and you get your head chopped off." Sam's attempt at a British accent wasn't excellent, and his imitation of a female voice left the room snickering quietly. Rachel stared blankly at him. "Come on! That's my best Lara impression!" Santana stared at Sam incredulously before addressing Rachel herself.

"She's hot, Berry. Take the compliment."

"You know Tomb Raider, Lopez?" Puck raised an approving eyebrow and the latina, who merely shrugged her shoulders, examining her short fingernails.

Quinn had yet to speak, watching the exchange with amusement, her eyes flitting over Rachel's bare stomach more times than she'd care to admit.

"Rachel's here, now we can start." Quinn pushed herself off the weights, crushing her cigarette against the mirrored wall and letting it fall to the ground. Approaching the weapons laid out on the floor, she began pacing slowly behind them.

"So this first one is a plasma cutter; it's pretty basic, simple to use, easy to load. It is very accurate and extremely reliable." Quinn moved on to the next weapon, gesturing at it as she spoke. "This next one's a Hydrazine Torch Flamethrower. The name says it all. You can shoot a jet of flame, or a fireball, which will explode on impact." Puck and Sam looked impressed by this, and Quinn smirked before continuing. "Moving on we have a Javelin Gun, which will fire a titanium spike and pin your enemy to a nearby surface, alternatively you can use it to electrocute your target, although there's always the danger of electrocuting yourself along with them." Here Quinn paused and looked pointedly at Puck, moving further along the line to the next weapon. "Motorized Pulse Rifle, pretty standard but a solid weapon. Works especially well against unarmoured targets. Finally we have the rivet gun. It may not look like much but it's fast and will get you out of a tricky spot if you need it to." Everyone was paying close attention, Sam, Puck and Finn looked excited, Rachel determined, and Santana seemed bored, chipping away and her red nail polish.

"Does anyone have any questions before we start practicing?" When everyone shook their heads in answer, Quinn instructed them to each choose a gun and some ammo, and make their way to the small shooting gallery next door.

* * *

The room barely lived up to its name, housing only one human-shaped hologram and a small protective barrier just inside the door. Quinn was certain it was just an old storage room, but it would have to do, they couldn't very well run around the ship shooting at holographic imitations that could very well be their human co-workers.

Loading her gun, Quinn did a quick demonstration with the plasma cutter, shooting her target four times through the head.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Q." Puck said after a seedy wink.

"Keep winking at me like that, Puckerman, and you'll be a lot worse off than that guy." Puck looked hesitantly at the nearly headless hologram and turned quickly to engage Finn and Sam in conversation. Quinn smirked at his reaction and turned back to Rachel and Santana. The latter already had her Pulse Rifle loaded and was aiming it at a fresh hologram she had conjured with the press of a button. Quickly, she fired several rounds into the shimmering figure, landing every shot square between his eyes, four in his chest. Quinn nodded once, impressed, and Santana lifted the her gun to blow over the end of it, winking. Quinn chuckled and switched her attention to Rachel, who was struggling to hold a flamethrower, her stomach and arm muscles visibly tensing with the strain.

Quinn ran her tongue over her teeth, watching as Rachel hefted the weapon into her arms. There was a light sheen of sweat covering her forehead, and Quinn wondered why Rachel had chosen such a heavy gun when she was one of the smallest people aboard the ship.

Quinn was just about to suggest that Rachel swap weapons with someone else, when the gun began slipping from her toned arms. Quinn quickly closed the distance between them, her arms shooting around Rachel to support the flamethrower. Quinn's hands were on the gun, the length of her pinky resting over the back of Rachel's hand, her arms wrapped around the brunette's bare waist. She felt Rachel shiver and leaned into her involuntarily.

"Thank you, Quinn." Rachel's breath tickled the soft skin of Quinn's inner arm, goosebumps erupting all the way down her arm as a shudder ran up her spine.

"Um, it's okay." Quinn breathed deeply, her expanding ribs pushing into Rachel's slightly damp back. If she stayed in this position much longer she might faint. "Do you, uh… Have you got it now?"

"I don't think so. Do you think you could help me aim?" Rachel turned her head slightly to see Quinn's face, bringing them even closer together. Their lips were an inch apart, shallow breaths mingling in the stagnant air of the seldom used room. Quinn wasn't sure if it was the lack of oxygen, or Rachel's dark gaze, but white spots were floating in front of her eyes. Was she going to faint? Everywhere Rachel's body touched hers was hot and prickly, like fire, or electricity, while the rest of her body was left cold from the absence of Rachel. She felt as though someone had poured lighter fluid all over her and was holding a match, waiting for the right moment to drop it. She imagined Rachel smiling at her, walking her fingers gently over the matchstick, toying with her. Quinn had never felt like this before. She wanted to let it happen, she wanted Rachel to set her on fire.

Quinn tried to ignore her quivering muscles, focusing on the gun instead of the proximity of Rachel's mouth. "Look through the sight." Quinn was relieved when Rachel turned away from her to bring the weapon closer to her face, looking at the small display and closing her index finger over Quinn's on the trigger. She pulled the small lever, a jet of flames shooting out in front of them, her finger pressing gently down over Quinn's while her back tensed against Quinn's front to take the force of the recoil.

Rachel lowered the gun, Quinn's hands slipping away from it as she stepped back. Placing the flamethrower easily on the ground, Rachel turned to smile at Quinn, her dark eyes barely a foot from hazel. The brunette turned and Quinn let out a sigh of relief, glancing up at the hologram, which, like hers earlier, no longer had a head.

"You're a good teacher, Quinn." Rachel whispered, turning back to face Quinn and running a finger gently down Quinn's forearm, causing more goosebumps.

"Uh, you guys all seem like you've got this. Keep practicing if you want." With that, Quinn turned away from Rachel and left the room, throwing one last look over her shoulder at Rachel. She paused, watching as Rachel easily picked up the flamethrower, her stomach muscles tensing as she stood straight and held the gun to her chest with ease before firing a fireball into the body of the headless figure, causing the whole thing to explode. Swinging the gun on to her narrow shoulder with one arm, Rachel turned to wink at Quinn.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: at the bottom**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

"You scanned it, and found nothing!?" Sue's voice boomed throughout the room, emanating from the translucent hologram in front of the control board.

"Yes, Miss Sylvester, we've been here for an hour, and did a scan for life immediately after our arrival. Nothing was forthcoming." Sam's voice was professional, but trembled slightly, belying his anxiety over the situation.

"You mean St James didn't even pop his tawdry head of hair out of the airlock to greet you?" The crew of the McKinley glanced at each other in silence. Sue continued, almost to herself, "that boy is like a cockroach; revolting and durable. What in God's holy name is going on here?"

"Uh, Miss Sylvester?" Finn raised his hand slightly, only to have it pulled down by Puck with a snort.

"Yes, the freakishly tall one in the back, do you have a problem?"

"Well, it's just, I know it's our job to go on board and look for people and stuff. But, like, what if the reason they're gone is still, you know, _there." _The rest of the crew nodded slowly, reluctant to agree with Finn's less-than-eloquent statement, but nonetheless anxious to hear the answer.

"Hudson, I'm sure your gentle giant persona will endear you to any flesh eating aliens that may or may not be on board the Carmel. For this reason, I have decided in the last few seconds that you will be the first to board at 0800 hours. Do you have any objections?" Finn's mouth hung open slightly, and after a moment of blank staring, he clenched his jaw, nodding his head once at the hologram before him.

"Spectacular. If you need anything, get in touch with Holly, I don't want to hear from any of you more than is strictly necessary." With that, the hologram disappeared , and the crew dispersed to their respective sleeping quarters.

* * *

Quinn sat in her narrow bed, pillows behind her back, a thin screen resting across her angled thighs. She frowned down through her black-rimmed glasses, fingers swiping gently across the screen every now and then, making adjustments to weapon prototypes she had been working on. Sighing, she glanced over her glasses at the digital clock beside the bed. It was getting late. Just a few more tweaks here and there, and she would have completed the blueprint for an entirely new gun. There was a light knock on the door and her long fingers stilled above the thin glass of the blueprint, hovering, debating whether to answer.

Quinn sighed again. "It's not locked." Tentatively, Rachel stepped into the room, pausing at the threshold and glancing up at Quinn through thick eyelashes.

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"You wouldn't. We don't know each other, Rachel." She knew she was being harsh, but it was late, and she didn't feel like dealing with her slightly-more-than-friendly feelings for the brunette, especially not while in her own bedroom. And wearing only a tshirt and panties. Could this situation get any worse? Finding her confidence, Rachel bounded over to the bed, carefully taking the blueprints from Quinn's leg before placing them on the nightstand. Before Quinn could blink, Rachel was straddling her, one knee on either side of her hips, her ass resting against Quinn's legs. Evidently, it could get worse.

She grabbed Rachel's wrists before she could put her hands anywhere, thanking God for the thin blanket that separated the bare skin of their legs. With a wicked smile, Rachel leant over to trail her tongue along Quinn's jaw and down her neck, giggling when goosebumps erupted in her wake. Feeling Rachel's breath against her neck made Quinn's head spin, words tumbling from her mouth in a dissaray.

"Uh, wha - ? Rachel. Stop. Rae, oh God. What are you doing?"

Raking her teeth gently up the side of Quinn's throat, Rachel murmured her reply against the soft skin below the taller woman's ear, "getting to know you better." Quinn moaned at the words and felt Rachel smile against her cheek, releasing a warm breath that made Quinn shiver. Tightening her hold on Rachel's wrists, Quinn pushed her back, sliding herself out from under the brunette and leaning against a wall.

"That's not getting to know me, Rachel." Shoving herself of the wall, Quinn moved to stand in front of the other woman, fiddling with a ring right hand. She didn't know whether to hit Rachel or kiss her. "God, you're so frustrating!" She turned away so she wouldn't see Rachel's face and continued, "I've told you I don't sleep with coworkers! Why are you so Goddamn persistent!" Hearing movement behind her, she tensed before feeling a pair of toned arms wrap around her waist.

"I know you want me." Quinn felt the vibration of Rachel's voice through her body as the brunette pressed her entire length against Quinn's back. Desire sunk deep into her stomach, sliding lower as Rachel spoke, her fingers skimming across Quinn's hipbone. "Why do you keep fighting me, baby?" Quinn melted at the last word, her resolve cracking as Rachel's mouth pressed against her back, vibrations humming throughout her body.

"Rachel, please. I can't do this." Rachel eased Quinn's shirt over her hip to rub circles into the soft flesh. "God, Rachel."

"Why not, Quinn. Why are you so scared to let me in?" her thumb moves inward, grazing the edge of Quinn's panties as she moans. "Do you have feelings for me, Quinn?"

Ripping herself from Rachel's embrace, Quinn steps back. Seeing Rachel's blown pupils sent a wave of desire straight through Quinn, and a heaviness fell in her chest as she questioned herself. "Don't be fucking ridiculous. I don't even know you." Quinn's chest clenched at the pain flitting across Rachel's face, but she ignored it, raising an eyebrow at the girl and faking dirision.

"But I feel like I know you. It would be so easy."

"Rachel, stop. I don't have feelings for you, and even if I did, as soon as this ship lands, I'm gone." Quinn stepped over to the desk and picked up her cigarettes, fumbling one out and lighting it shakily.

"Why?" Rachel looked determined, now, all traces of pain gone from her features. It made Quinn nervous, and she drew deeply from her cigarette to distract herself.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why do you have to go?" Quinn stared at Rachel for what felt like an hour. Why did she have to leave? What was this self-imposed exile she put herself through?

"Just stop. It's late. You should go."

"You're just fucking scared, Quinn. You act like some tough as nails 'weapons specialist' - has anyone ever told you what a fucking obnoxious job title that is? - but really you're just running. What the fuck are you running from?" Cigarette forgotten in her hand, Quinn stepped toward the brunette.

"I could ask you the same question, Rachel," Quinn hissed, her voice laced with malice. "Living all the way out here, secluding yourself onboard this hopeless ship. What are _you _running from?" Rachel froze, her face betraying nothing, and Quinn wondered for a second if she had gone too far.

"Fuck you Quinn. You got what you wanted. I'm done." She stormed from the room, leaving Quinn to glance down at her now burnt-out cigarette. Lighting another, Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, muttering to herself.

"Obnoxious job title, my ass, Berry."

* * *

Holly leans against Sue's desk, supporting herself with strong arms as she glares at Sue. "This is dangerous."

"It has to be done." Sue does not look at Holly, looking down at her journal, pen poised in her hand.

"There was no life left on the ship! You know what this is." Sue removes her glasses, folding them neatly and looking up at Holly.

"I reject that notion. I don't know anything."

"You're sending these kids to their deaths, Sue! It has to be another outbreak."

"Shut it, blondie. For all we know these gelatinous _idiots _from the stupidly named _Carmel_, have gone for a joyride in the escape pod and slipped into a black hole, God willing. All we need to do is organise an unfortunate accident for Will Shuester to go in after them and this mission will be wrapped up like a Christmas present. I don't want any objections, Holly, I stand by the fact that his cooking gave me Gonorrhea."

"Sue, it's impossible to catch - that's not the point! That explanation is ridiculous, and I think we should bring them home."

"You think that's ridiculous, Holly? Try being told by the vice president of your company that there has been an outbreak of zombie-like aliens aboard one of your starships, and that due to an infestation, we should bring the rescue vessel home - YOU'RE AN IDIOT! Now get out of my office."

* * *

**A/N. Sorry for the delay! I've had a bunch of stuff going on. Just so you Dead Space fans know, this isn't going to be exactly like the game. The guns might be slightly wrong and the necromorphs are going to be a bit different. I just used the story as a base for this one, so I hope that's okay. I'll try and update sooner this time :)**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: I know it's been a while, I'm sorry. There are specifics in here that won't match up exactly with the Dead Space universe, so sorry to those of you who are fans of the game. As usual, thanks for reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor is Dead Space.**

* * *

Quinn focused on the flickering image of Finn's anxious face before her. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his new gun every few seconds for reassurance. The majority of the crew was assembled in the control room, waiting for the all clear from Puck that would allow Finn to begin their mission. As per Sue's orders, Finn was first to board the Carmel, and he was doing so alone, much to his dismay.

Quinn stood directly in front of Finn's pale hologram, trained eyes running over his gun, checking it one last time before he entered a potentially hostile environment. Rachel stood in a corner with Kurt, stubbornly ignoring Quinn as she had been all morning, not that the other woman had made much effort to talk to her, anyway. Quinn had been going over final weapon checks since she woke up, ensuring that if something did go wrong aboard the Carmel, Finn, and anyone who boarded after him, would be able to defend themselves.

She couldn't deny that Rachel had been on her mind. Quinn had been battling her conscience all morning, wondering if she'd been to harsh on Rachel, only to tell herself seconds later that Rachel deserved it. Why did she even care? She'd gotten what she wanted. Rachel wasn't talking to her, and she was free to continue her work aboard the McKinley and disembark without any anchors to keep her there, or make her regret leaving.

Rachel did look good today though. Even in a pair of worn jeans and a faded black T-shirt she managed to ooze sex appeal, meaning that no matter how hard she tried, Quinn couldn't help but glance over, disappointed when Rachel wasn't looking back. She was frustrating herself. What was it about this woman?

Before she could even begin to explore the reasons behind her fascination, an electronic buzzing sounded as the connection between the McKinley and the Carmel was established.

"You ready, Hudson?" Puck addressed a small electronic microphone attached to his wrist and gave hologram-Finn a thumbs up.

"As I'll ever be." Finn took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and stepping towards the door, waiting for Puck to activate it. It opened silently, and the crew watched as Finn stepped out of the McKinley and into darkness.

"What do you see, Finn?" Sam questioned, glancing over at another screen that displayed a blueprint of the Carmel, a green dot depicting Finn's location. It was moving slowly as Finn walked deeper into he ship, pausing at various doorways to shine light into smaller chambers.

"Nothing yet, everything looks normal so far."

The control room was silent apart from Finn's shallow breathing echoing through the oxygen tank. The green dot on the screen moved further into the ship, faster now as Finn grew more comfortable with his surroundings. Minutes passed uneventfully as Finn reiterated his surroundings to his coworkers. The only thing amiss so far was the absence of the crew, other than that, the ship appeared untouched. Finally, he reached the control room.

"Holy shit."

"What is it, Finn?" Sam asked, moving closer to the GPS, as though he could use it to establish a visual connection.

"There's just, like – oh my God. There's – there's body parts everywhere, you guys. And blood. Oh my God."

"It's okay, Hudson. Calm down. A few dead bodies can't hurt you." Puck reassured, moving over to stand next to Sam in front of the green spot that was Finn. Mercedes and Kurt exchanged shocked glances as Brittany moved closer to Santana, both of them edging toward the screen with Puck and Sam. Tearing her gaze from the uninformative screen, Quinn looked at Rachel, who was finally looking back at her with worried brown eyes.

"What else do you see, Finn? Can you go to the main computer and check the log?" Artie asked from his position at the controls, typing something into the computer and bringing up another blueprint. "There should be one in the data files."

"I'll, uh, I'll see if I can find it." Again, the room was silent save for Finn's uneven breathing as he made his was across the Carmel's control room, presumably avoiding the bodies under his feet. Abruptly, there was silence, followed by a metallic click Quinn recognized as the hammer on a pulse rifle.

"Finn, what are you aiming at?" She asked, not taking her eyes off Rachel.

"I swear there's something moving in here, Quinn. Guys, there's something here, I swear to – " Finn's words were cut off by static as Artie furiously pummeled at his controls.

"What the fuck happened Abrams?"

"I don't know, Puck! We've lost radio connection."

There was a blip from the GPS screen amidst the static and the green dot disappeared from the map of the Carmel.

"Fuck!" Puck slammed his hand against the screen, the blue panel flickering to black before coming back to life, the green dot still gone.

"We have to go in after him!" Sam walked over to the doorway and picked up a gun, attempting to load it before Kurt stopped him.

"Sam, we don't know what's in there. We have to tell Sue what's happened before we send anyone else in." He placed a hand on Sam's forearm, gently taking the gun from him with the other.

"You think he's dead, don't you?" Sam looked at Kurt, and when he didn't receive and answer, glanced around the rest of the room.

"Sam, his GPS signal disappeared, and we lost radio. I'm sorry, but that kinda screams dead to me." Mercedes said softly, looking around at the others for reassurance.

"There's no point going in there. He'll still be dead. I vote we ditch Sylvester's suicide mission and get the fuck out of here." Santana's voice shook on the last word, Brittany reaching out to link their pinkies before adding her own opinion.

"Santana's right. I wish Finn wasn't dead, but we shouldn't have to die, too."

"Are you all kidding?" Finally looking away from Quinn, Rachel turned to glare at the rest of the crew. "This is our _job. _We've had the training and now it's time to put what we've learnt into practice. Finn is our _friend _and while he may be exceedingly dimwitted at times, he is one of us and we will not leave him behind because the rest of you are _scared." _Storming out of the room and picking up a gun on her way, Rachel made her way to the airlock, leaving the rest of the crew in shocked silence.

Quinn ran after her, grabbing her thin wrist and spinning her around before she could get further than the main corridor.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, Rachel?"

"No, I'm going to save my friend. There's no point trying to stop me, Quinn, you've made it very clear where we stand." Rachel glanced down at Quinn's tight grip on her wrist, twisting her arm away easily. Quinn's pale hand slipped against olive skin before her fingers clasped Rachel's, holding on tightly when Rachel tried again to pull free.

"Please don't do this. Please. At least wait until we get new orders before you go charging in there. I know what I said, but I _do _care about you, and I don't want you to get hurt." Rachel's expression softened slightly, her muscles visibly relaxing as she exhaled.

"Fine, but I'm contacting Sue right now."

With that, Rachel's fingers slipped out of Quinn's grasp and she marched back into the control room, leaving a relieved Quinn alone in the corridor.


	12. Chapter 11

Rachel sat in front of the GPS display, arms crossed and teeth clenched. She was furious. It had been two hours since Finn had boarded the ship, and one hour and fifty-one minutes since she had contacted Sue and demanded reinforcements. Unsurprisingly, Sue had laughed, refusing to send any more ships out to "the wasteland of the universe" and forbidding Rachel or any of the crew to board the Carmel until they had more information.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get more information if I can't go and look for myself!" She had yelled, to no one in particular, storming back and forth in front of the empty hologram space once Sue had disconnected. Kurt, Sam, Puck and Mercedes had all tried to calm her down without success, and had vacated the control room shortly afterwards. Quinn had listened to Sue's orders and then left the bridge without a word to anyone (much to Rachel's disappointment), followed shortly by the rest of the crew, who had no desire to be around Rachel when she wasn't getting her way.

"Go make-out with Quinn to take your mind of it, Rachel," had been Brittany's last remark before making her way towards the kitchen, dragged along with Santana by their linked pinkies.

Though she didn't want to admit it, being around Quinn would have been a welcome distraction, but the weapons specialist hadn't said a word to Rachel after stopping her from going after Finn, and hadn't returned to the bridge after her abrupt departure. Rachel decided to stay by the GPS tracker out of duty to Finn, hoping the green dot would flash back onto the screen, while wondering what Quinn was doing

* * *

While Rachel sat alone in front of a blank screen, Quinn was in her room looking at blueprints of the Carmel, trying to figure out if there were any concealed areas or crawlspaces where the measurements didn't add up, or thick metal floors, preventing the GPS signal from showing up. It was odd though that Finn's radio had cut out, if he was still alive, that is.

She hadn't spoken to Rachel after their encounter in the hall. She didn't want to be around the brunette when she felt this conflicted. Seeing Rachel about to board the Carmel, knowing that Finn hadn't come back – and probably wouldn't – caused an irrational fear in Quinn that made her uncomfortable. She cared about Rachel more than she wanted to, and it worried her. Especially when they were this close to an obviously hostile environment. She wasn't kidding herself; Finn was dead. And if she had her way, Quinn would be out of here as soon as she could figure out how to steer the ship. She could take one of the escape pods, but she didn't want to leave Rachel. Her feelings for the woman outweighed her sense of self-preservation. She was fucked.

Finding nothing in the blueprints, Quinn started to make her way back to the control room. As she was making her way past the engine room she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. It was quick; just a blurred shape flitting past the open doorway. Turning, her eyes met the blank grey hall on the other side of the deserted opening. Shaking her head, the pink-haired girl again began walking towards the main part of the ship, her heavy combat boots hitting the metal floor, the sound reverberating around the small space. Quinn stopped, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly standing on end, as if someone were breathing down her shirt. She would have dismissed it as a trick of her mind had she not heard the quiet wheezing coming from the seemingly empty hallway she had checked mere seconds ago. Slowly and silently drawing her gun from its holster on her thigh, Quinn turned, scanning the corridor around her before training her eyes on the doorway to her left and raising her gun. As if on cue, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows, stopping in the archway to face her. Quinn sighed in relief and dropped her gun to her thigh.

"God, Finn. Everyone's been so worried for you! What happened when you boarded the Carmel? What did you see?"

Finn stepped further into the hallway and Quinn's grip on her gun tightened subconsciously. He looked unwell. No, Quinn thought, unwell was an understatement. Finn looked like shit. His black T-shirt was ripped over his chest, the small amount of skin she could see beneath the tattered fabric raw and bloody. His arms were hanging limply at his sides, his long fingers twitching every now and then, as though he was fighting the urge to curl them into fists, half of his left thumb nail was missing and there were small cuts covering his fingers and wrists. Tearing her eyes away from his large body, Quinn finally looked up to the tall boy's face. He was grinning, bloody gums causing his teeth to shine white against the red in a sick grin, standing out from his bruised and bleeding face. Finally, Quinn met his eyes, and in a split second she went from concerned to terrified when she saw that gentle brown had been replaced with milky white.

Quinn once again raised her gun, aiming it between Finn's eerie white eyes, unsure of what to do next. Should she shoot him? She wasn't sure if he was actually a danger to her, but something about his bloody grin said that Finn was no longer the gentle giant she had come to know in the past few days.

"Finn?" She asked timidly, afraid to provoke anger from the already twitching figure before her. "I think we should get Mercedes to take a look at you, okay? Sorry, but you don't look so hot."

If possible, Finn's smile got even wider, his eyes and nose scrunching up with the force of the expression. His twitching hands had now formed shaking fists and he rocked back on his heels, a small giggle escaping his throat.

"Help me."

The grin disappeared from his face suddenly, almost like someone had doused him in cold water, his previous expression replaced with one of sheer anger before his body started contorting, his shoulders popping from their sockets and twisting above his head. His jaw swung open, further than physically possible with the sick cracking sound of breaking bone, and a snarl ripped up from his throat.

Just as he lunged for Quinn, he was tackled from the side by a blonde blur, all of the air leaving him as he hit the floor with a thud, winded, a frowning Brittany sitting on top of him.

"You can't attack Quinn, Creepy-Finn, it isn't nice," she scolded him, and before Finn could even blink, Brittany punched him, his head whipping back and cracking against the metal floor, leaving the deformed body limp against the cold steel.

* * *

**A/N: I know this isn't exactly like the game, it's going to deviate sometimes, so don't hate me please. Thanks for all your reviews, favourites and follows :)**


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: Sorry it's been so long and that this is so short! I know what I want to happen I'm just having trouble writing it. I'm on holidays in three weeks, then updates will be much more frequent (and hopefully with longer chapters).**

* * *

Quinn and Brittany had dragged an unconscious Finn to a nearby storage cupboard, and were now leaning heavily against the door. Their chests heaved with exertion limbs hanging limply at their sides, recovering from dragging his huge mutated form across the room.

"Should we shoot him?" Brittany asked, pressing her ear against the door. "I don't think he's woken up yet."

"I don't know, Brittany. We need to talk to Sue." Quinn frowned at the wall opposite, failing to come up with a solution for their situation.

"I have a communicator." Brittany pulled a small silver device from her pocket and placed it on the floor in front of the women, fingers flicking over a tiny screen. Within seconds, a life size and slightly transparent image of their boss was before them.

"What is it, Tweedle-Dumb, I have things to do and people to fire." Hologram-Sue brushed some nonexistent fluff from her navy blazer before glancing up at the interruption.

"Ms Sylvester," Quinn stepped forward slightly, making sure her hands remained against the door behind her. "Something's happened. Finn went on board the Carmel and – "

"Old news, Q, I know the giant didn't make it back down the beanstalk. Get to the point."

"Well there's been a… development." When she didn't receive a response, Quinn hurried on, "he came back, and he's… well he's a monster."

"The monstrosity that is Finn Hudson is old news, Fabray, now if you'll excuse me – "

"No he's actually a monster! He foamed at the mouth and grew extra bits and we locked him in a closet but I think he's going to be able to get out of there because he seems really strong. Like, stronger than before." Sue tapped her index finger against her chin and stared at Brittany for several seconds before finally responding to her outburst.

"Shoot him." Quinn and Brittany stared open-mouthed at Sue before the communication cut off and the device was silent. Before they could take action, Sam rounded the corner, smiling when he saw Brittany and Quinn.

"Hey, guys. Everyone's looking for you. What are you – " Sam stopped abruptly when there was a thud from the inside of the closet, jerking both women forward. Sam's smile fell from his face and his hand went to the weapon secured around his thigh. "What was that?"

"It's Finn," Quinn replied, leaning heavily against the shaking door. "Something happened to him. He's turned in to some kind of monster." As though summoned by his name, the banging on the door increased, finally breaking the lock and flinging both girls against the opposite wall as the monster formerly known as Finn launched himself from the closet. Quinn tried to stand as it turned to her, but her leg gave out underneath her and she fell back into an unconscious Brittany.

Sam fired a shot into its back, the blue blast slowing it down for a second before it rounded on him, slashing sharp limbs through the air and advancing with jerky steps. Its wide jaw hung open, the inside of its mouth dark and rotten. Sam shot again, this time the creature did not stop, ignoring the dark liquid seeping from its chest. One of its thrashing limbs caught Sam in his forearm as he raised his gun and shot again, missing its body and shooting one of its limbs, severing the muscle and protruding bone from the body. It let out a foul screech before flinging itself at Sam once more, remaining limbs slicing through the air before catching Sam in the chest, ripping his shirt and leaving a bloody gash in his skin. Sam pulled the trigger once more, ripping through the creature's shoulder blade and leaving it without its most effective weapons. It fell to the ground, twitching and jerking before the bloody heap finally became still.

Quinn leapt up from the floor, wincing when she put weight on her leg. She kicked the hideous mass as she passed to ensure it wasn't about to drag itself to attack them again before limping over to Sam and pulling her shirt over her head. Ripping it in two, she wrapped one half around his bleeding arm before pressing the other to his chest, ignoring his pained expression and trying to stop the blood flow. The cut was deep and messy. Quinn thought for a moment she could see bone, but she ignored it, pressing her shirt harder over the long gash, unable to mask the look of concern on her face. The blood was soaking rapidly through her shirt, staining her hands and dripping down her arms.

"Sam, I – "

"It's okay, Quinn." He attempted a smile, failing when his face contorted in pain. She couldn't stop putting pressure on the wound. She couldn't let him die. He had saved her life. She crouched with him as he slid further down the wall, ignoring the pain in her leg and focusing on the blood that coated her fingers.

"You aren't dying, Sam," Quinn said quietly as Brittany stirred behind them, crawling over to lean against the wall beside him.

"If get to die looking at a half-naked girl, I'm not complaining." Despite what he said, his eyes never left her face, only breaking eye contact to smile at Brittany when she folded his hand between hers. She said nothing, and held even tighter when he closed his eyes.

* * *

Sue leans against her desk, frowning at Holly over the edge of her glasses before removing them with a sigh.

"I tried to warn you, Sue." Holly was furious, pacing back and forth in Sue's huge office, trying to think of a way out for the crew of the McKinley. "We have to send another ship out there to rescue them."

"And have another crew get infected? No. We let that bunch of imbeciles die out there and forget about this. The McKinley was a disaster waiting to happen with Hudson at the helm. It's a shame about Fabray, though. She reminded me of a young Sue Sylvester." Sue sat down in her extravagant chair, opening a notebook and beginning to write, paying no attention to Holly standing in front of her, still as a statue.

"I can't believe you, Sue. We have maybe twenty-four hours before that ship is crawling with necromorphs. Nercomorphs that used to be your employees! And you won't lift a finger to help those kids!"

"You think this is hard? Try shooting your way through a ship full of necromorphs to save a bunch of idiots, that's hard!"


	14. Chapter 13

"We can't just fucking leave them there! They're my bros!" Puck was pacing up and down the control room, his right hand resting on the back of his neck. Most of the remaining crew were gathered at the bridge, aside from Mercedes, who was doing inventory on the medical supplies, and Will, who, according to Santana, was probably rapping in the shower. Puck stopped in front of Quinn and Brittany, asking them to explain for the fifth time what had happened outside the engine room.

"Finn was acting really weird. He wasn't Finn anymore. Then he came out of the closet with all these extra bits and attacked us. Sam tried to help, but Finn just wouldn't stop and Sam shot him, but he got hurt, and he – " Brittany burst into tears before she could finish, and was immediately wrapped in Santana's arms, the darker woman glaring at Puck.

"I'm going to get the bodies. I'm not just leaving them in a hallway." Puck started towards the door, but Quinn put a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to face her.

"Look, Finn's body isn't so much… Well you should maybe just worry about Sam's." The corners of his eyes crinkled, the only warning before he pulled her suddenly to his body, taking a deep breath and pushing himself away with a cough.

"Uh, right. Fabray, Pierce, if you'll accompany me to the, um, location of the, uh, incident. Yeah." He gestured at the door awkwardly before walking out, followed not only by Quinn and Brittany, but Rachel, Kurt, Santana, and Artie as well.

Puck walked swiftly down the hallway, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes and trying to ignore the trail of people following him. When they arrived, they found the pile of bloody limbs that had been Finn where they'd left it, but Sam's body was nowhere in sight.

"Uh, Quinn, that's where we left Sam right?" Brittany asked, gesturing at a bloody streak on the floor. Quinn stared at the blood spattered metal of the corridor, searching for an explanation. There was a trail of red leading further into the ship, towards the sleeping quarters and the medical facilities.

"Puck, where did you say Mercedes was again?"

"Doing inventory in the clinic. Why the fuck does that matter when Sam's body is fucking gone!"

"Puck, listen. I need you to get in contact with Mercedes right now." For once, Puck listened, and Quinn was relieved when she heard Mercedes' voice emanating from the tiny device in his hand.

Before he could say anything, Quinn snatched it, "Mercedes listen to me, lock the door, and whatever you do, do not let Sam in if you see him."

"What are you talking about, Fabray, he's right here. He is acting pretty strange though. Even for a white boy." Mercedes chuckled at herself, and Quinn locked eyes with Puck, who returned her gaze with confusion.

"You have to get out. Now." Quinn spoke quietly and clearly into the communicator, trying to prevent Sam from hearing.

"Girl, are you kidding – Sam, what are you doing? SAM! Oh hell to the no!" There was some static on the line, and then silence. Quinn was already running down the corridor, pulling her gun from its position strapped to her thigh and making sure it was loaded. Ignoring the shouts from behind her, she sprinted towards the clinic.

She arrived at the closed door and could hear nothing but her own labored breaths. Tentatively, she opened it, gun held in front of her, waiting for something to launch itself from the room. When nothing did, she stepped inside, careful not to stand on any of the debris that littered the floor.

Hearing a sound on her right, she immediately aimed her gun at the corner of the room, swallowing the bile that rose up her throat when she saw what the noise was.

Mercedes was slumped against the wall, eyes staring at nothing, empty of the laughter Quinn had heard only minutes before. What she assumed used to be Sam was using pointed limbs and sharp teeth to rip her apart, smearing blood on the walls and causing her body to slump further down the wall with each swipe of its mutant arms.

Quinn ran at it, firing bullets at every part of its hideous body as she did, finally stopping it from mutilating her friend, and stomping on the body when it fell to the floor. She continued to fire at its limp form, sobbing when she ran out of bullets and kicking the body instead.

The others burst into the room just behind her, Rachel pulling her back and holding her as she cried, quiet tears falling against Quinn's back.

* * *

**AN: Again, I'm sorry it's been such a long time! (and for the short chapter). I have the whole story planned out, so I promise I will finish it, and there'll be another update very soon in ****honor of Faberry week. Also, sorry if this is too gross/not gross enough? I wasn't sure how much detail I should go into. Thank you for sticking with me. New update very soon :)**


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